


Bloom

by trrafalgarlaw



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Shameless Tsukishima Worship, Slow Burn, Tsukishima Kei-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trrafalgarlaw/pseuds/trrafalgarlaw
Summary: Tsukishima Kei was content with his quiet life - his business was starting to pick up, and he actually took pride in it. He wasn’t looking for anything else, and he certainly wasn’t expecting to find anything, or anyone, else. Will he be open to change, or push it away like he has always done in the past?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Mentioned Yamaguchi Tadashi/Yachi Hitoka - Relationship, Small Amounts of Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 34
Kudos: 131





	1. First Light

**Author's Note:**

> I started thinking about Tsukishima Kei as a florist and then spiraled.

Tsukishima Kei always woke up when the sun was just starting to push its way through the darkness of night. He sat up, throwing his long legs over the side of his bed - toes hitting green slippers. Morning’s had always been Tsukishima’s favorite - the world was always quieter. He threw his arms above his head in a stretch, groaning out as his bones clicked. Another day. 

He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, slipping them on as he walked from his bedroom into the kitchen, “soon,” he muttered as he passed the impatient black and white cat waiting by his food bowl. The cat’s fluffy tail whipped impatiently, mewing at his owner. Tsukishima ignored it, dumping coffee grounds into the single serve maker.

A mew. 

“Impatient this morning, aren’t we, Hana?” With a sigh he grabbed the small container of food from the fridge, portioning it out as Hana moved impatiently between his ankles, “here, here.” He crouched beside Hana, putting the small bowl of food in front of him. Tsukishima scratched his ears before returning to his now brewed coffee. 

He sat at his small kitchen table, long legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. Shades of pink and purple burst through blue clouds, forcing the light of day upon the city; through the open window Tsukishima listened to the city as it woke - trains started running, coffee shops opened, and people began their morning commutes. Tsukishima’s day started when the alarm on his phone sounded from the other room. His apartment wasn’t big, but Tsukishima loved it. Windows lined the outer walls, allowing for plants to flourish - ivy traveled across window sills, large plants with wide, green leaves sat in multi-colored vases, basking in the early morning light. Hana sat in the small tower at the center of them all, watching a ladybug crawl on the opposite side of the window - his tail smacked gently against a flower, causing blue petals to flutter down to the hardwood floor. 

For his age, Tsukishima would say he was relatively successful. He has a small apartment, above his small business, and he makes enough money to live off of. His life was simple, and he liked it that way. He found this place about three years ago - run down and cheap. He fixed it up (with Atikeru’s help - though it wasn’t asked for) and opened his own flower shop. Tsukishima never would say he was proud of anything - always just doing the bare minimum to get by - but this shop was something he took pride in. 

His shop sat on the corner of a busy intersection - it’s brick facade, large windows, and warm interior inviting. Every morning Tsukishima took the care to put out his display of bouquets, arranging them carefully so he didn’t disturb the bundles of flowers. He checked the ivy that grew against the brick, climbing over the green awning and over the tiles of the roof, before pulling out a small sign, letting patrons know his business was open. Tsukishima decided it was nice enough to leave the shop door open, so he carefully made sure it was propped on his way back behind the counter.

The inside of Tsukishima’s shop was set up in the most efficient way Tsukishima could think of. Along the back wall was a large refrigerated section arranged by product. To the left side was a long, green counter - in the center a lone cash register and white tissue paper to wrap bouquets in. Tsukishima spent most of his time here, carefully practicing his craft. The walls of his shop were lined with individual flowers, so Tsukishima could pick and choose which exact flowers would make up his designs. Each flower was beautiful in its own way, and each had their own meaning. In the center of his shop were potted plants, green and stretching up toward the skylight. 

Another day. 

Tsukishima sighed, tying the apron snug around his waist, making sure his pruning shears were tucked neatly into the small pocket.

—

Across the city, Akaashi Keiji sat comfortably in his cubicle, hunched over the newest and hottest manga. His eyebrows furrowed behind the rim of his glasses, head tilted to the side, trying to decipher the last two pages he just read. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, blinking blankly at the ceiling. Today had been a long day, and the words and panels were starting to blur together. He looked at the small digital clock at the corner of his MacBook - two hours, he could certainly handle the last two hours of the day. 

Beside him on the table, his phone vibrated. He grabbed it and sighed at the incoming FaceTime, already exhausted before it even started, “Oikawa,” he answered, eyes focusing on the smaller screen. 

“You’re cheerful as ever, Aka~ashi,” Oikawa Tooru - Akaashi’s first and last roommate before Bokuto. They met his first year in university, when Oikawa accidentally stumbled into the wrong room incredibly drunk. Too nice to kick Oikawa out, Akaashi just gently tucked him under the covers of the empty bed on the other side of the room. Through his drunk rambling, Akaashi learned that Oikawa had gotten in a massive fight with his boyfriend, and decided to feel better by taking one too many shots of tequila. Akaashi pointed out later that night, when Oikawa was busy vomiting, that he didn’t seem to be feeling better. 

Now that Oikawa was twenty-eight, and probably the most successful wedding planner in the city, it was hard to think of the two as the same person, “is there something you wanted?” 

“Just confirming our appointment at four,” Oikawa was now focused on something else, Akaashi could see the reflection of the computer screen in his glasses, “we’re doing tuxes and then flowers, ya?” 

Akaashi nodded, “you don’t actually have to plan my wedding, you know, you could just be a normal best man.” 

“My wedding gift to you is my service, dear Keiji,” he laughed, sipping at his Starbucks, his attention now back on Akaashi. 

“I don’t remember asking,” Akaashi drawled, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. A subtle smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. 

“Ha!” Oikawa pushed himself back from his desk so he could prop his feet up, “could you imagine if you left it up to Bokuto. He’d let his first graders make the decorations.” 

A small laugh escaped Akaashi, he was thankful for the much needed break from work, “Bokuto and I will meet you at your office. Did you find a florist? Last I checked you were whining about not liking anything.” 

“Maybe,” it was a thoughtful comment, “we’re going to see a shop tonight, it’s fairly new, but Iwa brought me home a bouquet the other day and it was beautiful,” Oikawa sighed, “just need to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.” 

“And to see if we like it, right?” Akaashi teased. 

“Yes, of course. The happiness of my clients is most important.” 

Akaashi snickered behind his hand, his nose wrinkling, “your capitalist smile is incredibly unnerving. Unlike you, I have actual work to do, so I’m going to go. I’ll see you in a few hours, ok?”

“Yes, sir,” Oikawa smirked, saluting Akaashi as if he were an army general.

Akaashi rolled his eyes, hanging up on Oikawa before his friend could get any weirder. He raised his hand, fixed the glasses back on his face, and returned to his work, the tension in his shoulders easing.


	2. Looking Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto thinks back about when he proposed to Akaashi. It’s too sweet, and Kuroo can’t handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again, back on my bullshit. Bokuto and Akaashi are so incredibly sweet and I would die for them. Please enjoy :)

There were two things in this world that made Bokuto Koutarou happier than anything else: teaching kindergarten art and Akaashi Keiji. When he asked his boyfriend to marry him earlier that year, he used the help of his first-year art class. December 21st - the day of their first date, and then the day of their proposal. He told Akaashi he forgot his lunch - an excuse for Akaashi to come to the school (it only took some begging on Bokuto’s part). He was delighted when Akaashi arrived at his classroom, in a long black pea coat, bottom of his face tucked into an oversized green scarf. It was Bokuto’s favorite scarf because it made Akaashi’s eyes look like precious emeralds. 

When Bokuto kissed him that day, his lips were cold, “thank you,” he muttered outside the double doors of the room, away from the peering eyes of his students. 

“You’re welcome, but you should be more responsible, Bokuto,” he scolded lightly, passing over a carefully wrapped bento box. 

“Since you’re here, share it with me?” 

How would it ever be possible to say no to Bokuto when he looked at Akaashi like that? Like nothing else in the world mattered to him outside of Akaashi staying for lunch - the two of them eating behind his desk, “would it be okay?” 

“Of course!” Bokuto beamed, taking Akaasi’s gloved hands in his own. When he pushed open the door, Bokuto’s classroom had been turned into nothing short of a winter wonderland. The windows were sprayed with glitter and covered with handmade snowflakes. In the corner was a Christmas tree, lined with lights and tinsel, and presents underneath. The chalkboard behind Bokuto’s desk had been covered in an impressive landscape. When he had the time to do this, Akaashi wasn’t sure. He looked at Bokuto, eyes wide with wonder. 

“What’s all this?” Akaashi tucked his face back behind the scarf, desperate to hide the redness of his cheeks. 

Bokuto stepped backward into the classroom, arms spread wide, “we did it for you.” 

“We?” Akaashi’s eyebrows raised at the question. 

“One day I was just having a really hard time, so my brilliant kids decided to help me out with this pretty huge thing I’ve got going on right now,” as he spoke, Bokuto backed up to his desk, opening the top right drawer. He looked to the right and nodded, and before Akaashi could really catch what was happening the classroom erupted in organized chaos. Kids ran out, holding a large rolled up paper. They worked together to spread it across the room behind Bokuto - it depicted prominent scenes from their relationship, all drawn by Bokuto and the class. 

Akaashi looked at the paper, his heart catching in his throat, “Kou-“

“Keiji,” the way Bokuto looked at him was unfair. Akaashi saw the universe in the golden hue of his eyes, and he got lost in every single galaxy. After college, Bokuto let his hair grow out and (eventually) gravity caught up. He wore the silver strands in a low bun, a few loose pieces falling over his right eye - Akaashi loved watching him tuck them behind his ear, “I love you so much and I have been wanting to ask you this question for so long.” 

Akaashi’s face was horribly red at this point, hands shaking in his mittens. As Bokuto spoke, the redness spread to the tips of his ears. This was too much; Bokuto was too much, “there was this one day in particular when we were teenagers, the first summer we spent together after we met. I don’t really remember what led to it, but it was the first time I had ever made you laugh - like really laugh,” Bokuto paused for a moment, his expression light with nostalgia, “the sound made the world stop and I was desperate to hear it again.” 

When did he start crying? Akaashi raised his hand, now void of his mittens, and pushed his glasses up into his hair so he could rub at his tear stained cheeks, “I was just hoping, Keiji, that I’d be able to make you laugh like that for the rest of your life...will you marry me?” 

“Akaaaaashi-san!” A small girl piped up, looking over the large banner with wide, expectant eyes, “you’re gonna say yes, right? Senpai is the best in the whole wide world and he loves you so much!” 

“Shhhh! Kyoko!” The boy next to her scolded, “you gotta give him a chance!” Murmurs erupted behind Bokuto, the class weighing in on what the answer should be. 

Bokuto’s face was quite the sight - slightly exasperated as he tried to get his class to settle, but never once lost that overjoyed expression, “Koutarou,” the class quieted at Akaashi’s soft voice, “I will absolutely marry you.” 

-

Kuroo sat behind his desk, expression relaxed, as he listened to his friend recount the day he proposed in great detail. Normally, this would irk Kuroo (seeing as he was there, shoved in the corner, recording the entire thing) but him and Akaashi were in the midst of their wedding planning, so this time, Kuroo would let it slide. 

“Isn’t that a great story?” Bokuto sighed dreamily, resting his elbows against the front of Kuroo’s desk, “and now we get to plan our wedding!” 

Kuroo had returned to his work now that Bokuto’s story was finished - he clicked aimlessly around the excel sheet, entering in data where it was needed, “it’s disgustingly sweet and my teeth hurt now,” his lips curved into a sly smirk as he dodged the rolled up ball of paper Bokuto threw at him. 

“And to think I came here instead of going home.” Bokuto pouted, crossing his arms over his built chest - the shirt stretched over his taut muscles, “to think I made you my best man.”

Kuroo laughed, a rumble low in his chest, “that, my friend, was the best decision you ever made,” he finished the file he was working on and sent it over to his boss in a quick email, “and now, I am free.” 

The two met at a party Oikawa was throwing - Bokuto was there because Akaashi was there, and Kuroo was there because Oikawa’s friend was also Kuroo’s friend. They somehow ended up on the same flip cup team, and since then, the two were nearly inseparable. Kuroo’s now pretty sure Iwaizumi regrets inviting him to that party, because trying to keep the trio in line (no one should have ever let Kuroo, Oikawa, and Bokuto be friends) could be pretty exhausting work. 

The group of five had grown from rowdy college kids getting too drunk too early, to full-blown adults. That’s not to say they still didn’t get drunk a little too early some days, but it was weird to see Kuroo as the same person who shotgunned a beer at ass-o-nine in the morning because he had successfully submitted his accounting final before the deadline.

And now? Well Kuroo worked for some law firm Bokuto could never really remember the name of. They decided to put him, of all people, in charge of their finances. Crazy, “a lot’s changed,” he said absentmindedly. 

“Ever since you proposed to Akaashi you’ve been such a sap! Nothing has changed - not really anyway,” Kuroo teased, undoing the buttons around his wrists so he could roll his sleeves up tanned forearms, “are we going or are you going to sit here and pout about how we all don’t live within walking distance.” 

Bokuto stared at Kuroo, “I figured you’d be nicer to me since, ya know, I’m getting married.” 

“Did I upset the bride?” Kuroo and Bokuto walked out of his office, shoulders touching. As soon as the two were in the elevator, Bokuto captured Kuroo in a headlock, “Bokuto dammit!” He laughed, struggling against his friend’s grip. By the time they reached the lobby, Kuroo had been able to pry Bokuto’s large arms from around his shoulders. In the reflection of the doors, Kuroo attempted to straighten his hair. 

“Impossible.” Bokuto sang, slipping through the opening doors before Kuroo could land a punch on his arm, “thanks for coming today.”

“Anything, Bokuto,” Kuroo grabbed Bokuto, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “what you and Akaashi have is something special, so don’t fuck it up.” 

“Like I would ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, dropping kudos, and commenting. 
> 
> Check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


	3. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bright people always overwhelmed Tsukishima. He shouldn’t have been surprised when he saw just how blinding Bokuto was up close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t know I would have like three chapters of pre-plot and I’m so sorry. For some reason the pacing feels right for Tsukishima - idk I can’t explain it. Hope you enjoy!

“Okay, remember Tsukishima, this is the Oikawa Tourou you’re trying to impress. He is the biggest wedding planner out there right now. He likes you, you’re going to be making those big bucks.” Yachi Hitoka had been a great help to Tsukishima as he started his business - head of design and marketing. Out of the goodness of her heart (“or how hopeless you are, Tsukki,” according to Yamaguchi) she took the time outside her full time job to help him. 

“Is he really the biggest if I haven’t heard of him,” Tsukishima shot back, hunched behind the counter over a sketch book. 

Yachi sighed, defeated, “I do hope you’re better to your customers, Tsukishima.” 

Tsukishima took great care in shading a petal, “sometimes.” 

Yachi looked to her husband; Yamaguchi could only offer a shrug in return, “anyway, seriously, Tsukishima, do you remember what we have set up? It’s about the experience - not just the flowers.” Yachi pulled her jean jacket over her shoulders, moving her long hair out of the way of the collar. Yachi had always been cute growing up - a bit awkward and shy, but comforting in the way a blanket was - secure and warm. Tsukishima didn’t know when she went from a self-conscious teen to a successful woman that didn’t back down from the fight. He admired her. 

“I do,” Tsukishima put the pencil down and sat up straight, “thank you for your help,” he offered Yachi a nod. 

“Of course, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi answered, putting his phone into his back pocket. 

“What have you done, exactly?” Tsukishima mused, glancing over his shoulder at his freckled friend, a smirk pulling at his lips. Yamaguchi had remained mainly unchanged - still cool as ever, maybe just a little bit better when it came to fashion. 

Yachi giggled, grabbing her small pink purse from behind the counter before happily taking Yamaguci’s arm, “the board outside says closed for a private function, and the champagne is in the fridge. Offer it to them right when they get here.” 

“He knows, Hitoka,” Yamaguchi placed his hands on Yachi’s shoulders, nudging her toward the door, “you’ll be great Tsukki!” 

“Do not mess this up, Kei!” Yachi called over Yamaguchi’s shoulder, waving her fist in the air as if to threaten him, “I put way too much work into your brand!” 

When she turned around, she came face to - er, chest. Yachi looked up and she swore the man before her was chiseled carefully out of stone. Iwaizumi Hajime had to have been one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen, “oh, excuse us!” She bowed shuffling to the side with Yamaguchi. 

“You look a bit too pleased, dear.” Yamaguchi stood slightly behind his wife, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his jeans. 

When he heard the door of the shop, Tsukishima sighed, turning around expecting to be met with Yachi reminding him of yet another thing that he definitely had not forgotten about, “oh.” Tsukishima and Iwaizumi bowed politely to one another, silence stretching between them. 

“I believe I’m early, sorry for intruding.” Much like Yachi, Tsukishima had an appreciation for the man before him. He stood tall, shoulders back. Even under the slight bulkiness of his bomber jacket he could tell Iwaizumi put a lot of care into his body. Lucky for Iwaizumi, he had a face to match. Straight nose, dark eyes, long lashes. 

Tsukishima remembered him from last week. Iwaizumi entered the shop last Thursday, looking hopelessly lost among the sea of flowers. Tsukishima offered his help, and the words spilled from Iwaizumi before he could stop them; he had been away for a few days, and wanted to surprise his significant other (who was incredibly sappy, Tsukishima learned). He handpicked the flowers for Iwaizumi.

Sunflower for adoration. Chrysanthemum for longevity. Jasmine for unconditional and eternal love. The flowers alone were simple, together they created something beautiful. Their colors played off one another, and the floral designer took care to add plenty of interesting greenery. Tsukishima wrapped them carefully before passing them across the counter. 

“Did your significant other like the bouquet?” Tsukishima asked the question quietly looking anywhere but Iwaizumi; he could feel the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Very much so, only now Oikawa expects flowers every time I go away,” Tsukishima saw the twitch in his eyebrow, though his tone held no animosity. Ah - this was how Oikawa found his small little shop. 

“For my sake I hope that’s often,” Tsukishima carefully ripped a few pages from his sketchbook, laying them out on the counter in front of him, “I’m Tsukishima, by the way. I appreciate you liking my shop so much that you mentioned it to Oikawa. My friend Yachi says he’s quite the big deal.” 

“Iwaizumi,” he introduced as he inspected the designs Tsukishima had drawn out for Akaashi and Bokuto - Oikawa must have had a brief conversation about the day with him. It seemed as though Tsukishima missed nothing - table arrangements, boutonnieres, decorations for the ceremony, “you didn’t miss anything, did you?” 

Tsukishima’s fingers played with the corner of the paper, bending it without reason, “I hope not.” It was a surprisingly vulnerable statement from Tsukishima, blanketed by a blank facade and even tone. 

Surprisingly, Iwaizumi picked up on Tsukishima’s nervous air. Maybe, at this point, he was used to men who over-thought the smallest details, maybe it was the way Tsukishima creased the paper until the corner was practically falling off, maybe it was because Iwaizumi understood just how illuminating Oikawa seemed from someone who didn’t know him, “Akaashi and Bokuto will be thrilled.” He didn’t know if his words eased Tsukishima’s racing mind, but he hoped they did, even just a little.

By the time the four reached Tsukishima’s flower shop, Akaashi was exhausted. They ended up spending way too long at the tailors picking out acceptable and appropriate tuxedos. Akaashi wanted something simple, Bokuto and Kuroo, did not. That paired with Oikawa’s sometimes questionable taste really made deciding on something difficult. 

Akaashi sighed, shoulders slumping. Bokuto noticed the change in his introverted fiancé and pressed his lips softly to the hand he was holding, “flowers will be easier.” 

“I’m okay, Koutarou, just tired.” Akaashi wasn’t that small of a man, but next to Bokuto, he felt pretty small. He fit into Bokuto’s side comfortably, enjoying the warmth that radiated from his body. When the sun set behind tall buildings, the spring air blanketed a chill across the city. 

They reached Tsukishima’s shop just as dusk settled - streetlights had just become to flicker to life. The sky darkened, the waves of blue crashing against the warm light spilling from the shop windows. The clear glass framed bundles of flowers - each large vase holding one specific type. Fairy lights trailed along window sills, illuminating window boxes filled with bright flowers. 

“How pretty,” Akaashi seemed to perk up as the shop came into view, “you said Iwaizumi found this place?” 

“Don’t act so surprised,” Oikawa breathed out in a chuckle, “he has taste.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Kuroo didn’t bother looking up from his phone, “he’s dating you.” 

Bokuto laughed, throwing his head back, hand that wasn’t holding Akaashi’s brought to his chest, “god, that was great, Kuroo.” 

“Bokuto, I am planning your wedding for free.” Oikawa reminded, pushing the door open.

Bokuto’s tune changed instantly, his eyebrows falling, expression serious as he looked at Kuroo, “that wasn’t cool.” Kuroo threw up a peace sign in response. 

“Good evening,” Oikawa greeted in a hum, bowing as he entered the shop, “thank you for having us.” 

Bokuto followed Oikawa into the shop excitedly, chattering to Akaashi about how cool flowers were. He paused briefly to introduce both of them, and then started throwing a million and one questions at poor Tsukishima, “wow this is really cool, ya know? When did you start this? What’s your favorite flower? You know one of my students told me that all flowers have meanings, do people ever buy funeral flowers for weddings? I don’t want that. Happy flowers, please!” 

“One thing at a time, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi reminded, tone gentle, “thank you for having us.” He bowed. 

Tsukishima’s initial response was to be overwhelmed, unsure how to handle just how bright Bokuto was. He stepped back, as if desperate to escape Bokuto’s aura. One thing at a time. That’s all it was - like picking out flowers for arrangements, “three years ago I opened; my favorite flower is hyacinth for no other reason then I like the way it looks; I promise not to put any sad flowers at your wedding if you decide to hire me.” Tsukishima nodded, happy with his answer. When Bokuto stared at him, eyes wide and glistening, Tsukishima’s brows furrowed, “did I miss something?” 

“I don’t think so,” he responded earnestly, “just excited is all!” 

“Oh,” the innocence of Bokuto’s answer took Tsukishima off guard, “me too, Bokuto-san.” The corners of Tsukishima’s lips curved upwards - the motion small, but there, “would anyone like champagne?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for making it to the end of chapter three with me. I am honestly just having a really good time rn and I hope you guys are too. 
> 
> Check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co) if you want to!


	4. Moonflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo is completely enamored with Tsukishima from the second he sees him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo being lovestruck is the only thing I think about

If someone were to ask Kuroo Tetsurou how many times he had fallen in love in his short twenty-nine years on earth, he would say twice. He met Satoru Ige when he was nineteen - their relationship awkward and fumbling. Looking back on it, they were kids, just trying to figure it all out. Two years into their relationship, Satoru got an amazing opportunity abroad and their relationship couldn’t handle the distance. Ayano Usui stumbled into his life at twenty-five - literally. Kuroo was in a coffee shop when the barista tripped and spilled Kurooo’s latte down his front. They went on a date after that (her treat - she insisted) and then another, and another. At one point they lived together and Kuroo thought they were going to get married. To this day he’s still not exactly sure what happened - they grew apart; wanted different things, maybe. Each time, love felt the same: a rush of color to his cheeks, butterflies in his stomach, and the ache of longing. 

What Kuroo felt when he saw Tsukishima for the first time was...indescribable. The world fell apart, piece by piece, and for a few brief moments, he was free falling. Tsukishima stood tall behind his counter, hands twisted carefully in front of him as he listened to Bokuto. Kuroo watched the shadow of emotions pass through honey colored eyes - careful, observant, and then cautious relaxation at the realization Bokuto was not, in fact, a threat. When he smiled, Kuroo’s heart jumped into his throat. 

“-roo,” the free fall ended; the world slammed back into place so hard Kuroo was pretty sure he got whiplash, “are you going to close the door?” The question came from Iwaizumi who Tsukishima tasked with handing out full champagne flutes. 

“Ah. Right. The door.” Kuroo stepped forward in a hurried motion, “don’t want to let any of that precious heat out!” He giggled. Oikawa and Bokuto looked at him, eyebrows raised at his slight outburst. 

Tsukishima stared at him for a long moment, expression unreadable, “yes, well, I’ll be sure to send you the bill,” he said it as if it were nothing, easily returning to the quiet conversation with Akaashi. Kuroo felt like his entire body was on fire. 

“Well isn’t this interesting.” 

Kuroo jumped, “when the fuck did you get here?” 

“We arrived together Kuroo-san,” Kuroo did not like Oikawa’s tone, “don’t you remember?” 

“You know what I meant, Oikawa,” one shrug and Kuroo’s suit jacket pooled around his elbows. He pulled it off the rest of the way and hung it on a small hook Tsukishima kept by the door. 

“Don’t you want to know what I find interesting?” Oikawa draped an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders; Kuroo already didn’t like where this was going. 

“I was hoping if I ignored it long enough you’d just forget about it,” Kuro smirked. Tsukishima walked from behind the counter to meet Bokuto over by the white roses (“They’re Akaashi’s favorite!”) and he really did try his best not to stare. Cuffed black jeans clung to Tsukishima’s long, built legs - he was in shape, “don’t you have a job to be doing?” 

Oikawa sipped his champagne, watching Kuroo with delight, “Tsukki’s the professional, and Bokuto and Akaashi are going to need to make the choice, I’m just here to make sure it’s not ugly.” 

A defeated sigh - Oikawa was persistent - too persistent, “okay, then what is so interesting?” Kuroo fell onto a stool by the counter, refilling Oikawa’s champagne flute when it was waved in front of his nose. 

“I find it interesting what just happened to you. Never, in all our years of friendship-” 

“-too many years,” Kuroo grumbled. 

This didn’t seem to deter Oikawa, “-have I seen you act like such an unbelievable fool.” 

“What?” Kuroo raised his eyebrows in question. 

An eager Bokuto pushed between them, and Oikawa got swept up in him, already onto the next thing. “Tsukki-!” Bokuto started, grabbing a blush colored flower. 

“-shima.” Tsukishima had stopped beside Kuroo, arms crossed over his chest. Kuroo stiffened, every muscle screaming to reach out and wrap his fingers in the blonde curls that settled on the back of his neck. Kuroo swallowed the lump in his throat, turning his head so his eyes could focus on anything else. 

“-what’s this one mean?” Bokuto held it out, offering it to Oikawa. 

“Oh, for me?” Oikawa flirted, bringing the flower to his nose. 

Tsukishima stood silent for a few moments, head tilted to the side, “this is a camellia flower,” his voice soft, “it’s meaning is passion and beauty.” 

“Fitting for Oikawa, then,” the horror of saying that out loud seemed to set in slowly for Iwaizumi. He stared at his boyfriend, then looked at Bokuto - who seemed to be ready to burst, and finally Kuroo - who had that stupid smirk on his face, “if any of you mak-” 

Too late, “Hajime!” Oikawa leapt across the counter, shoving Kuroo’s arm out of the way so he could wrap his boyfriend in a hug, “that was so sweet of you to say. I just want to hug you forever.” 

“God I’m going to vomit,” Kuroo sniggered into his hand. 

“Who knew Iwaizumi was such a softie?” Bokuto joined in, arm slung comfortably around Kuroo’s shoulders now. Tsukishima and Akaashi stood off to the side, watching the torture; Iwaizumi’s face now a glorious shade of red.

“I’m very sorry,” Akaashi apologized to Tsukishima, looking away from the blushing and fidgeting Iwaizumi, “I wish I could say that this was anything new, but it’s not.” 

Tsukishima adjusted the glasses on his nose, looking toward Akaashi, “no reason to apologize. They’re having fun,” he paused, “well, three of them are. Should we…?” The rest of Tsukishima’s question was left hanging in the air. 

“It’s too far gone. If we interfere we’ll be sucked in,” he explained honestly, “Iwaizumi will have to save himself.”

Tsukishima felt a little embarrassed watching such an intimate moment between friends - was this not something they would normally do in private? They were this comfortable in the eyes of strangers? Envy prickled at the base of his neck, wishing he could be so carefree. He looked away from them.

“Did all of you forget we were here to look at flowers?!” Iwaizumi grumbled, though made no move to escape the crushing grip Oikawa had on him, “come on pay attention to Akaashi and Bokuto, we’re here for their wedding.” Tsukishima was pretty sure this was as close to whining as a man like Iwaizumi could get to. 

“...and I’m sure Tsukishima-kun doesn’t have all night to help us, either.” A small attempt to save his friend, Tsukishima recognized. 

“I actually had an idea for boutonnieres for everyone. I made some mockups before you arrived,” Tsukishima motioned toward the refrigerators - their windows fogged with condensation, “if Iwaizumi wouldn’t mind grabbing them?” Thankful for the distraction, Iwaizumi wiggled his way out of Oikawa’s grip, “these can, of course, be modified to fit in with the theme as it evolves. Now, Kuroo-san, if you wouldn't mind putting your suit jacket back on.” 

Kuroo stared at Tsukishima like an idiot, finger pointing toward himself, “me?” 

“You are Kuroo-san, aren’t you?” Tsukishima’s eyebrows raised above the frames of metal-rimmed glasses, “or have I made a mistake?” The undertone of Tsukishima’s voice held a slight bite.

“No, no,” Kuroo soothed. He stood, height rivaling Tsukishima’s, and walked over to grab the jacket hanging from the hook. 

“Thank you,” Tsukishima sighed as Kuroo returned, suit jacket comfortably over broad shoulders.

He was taken off guard by Tsukishima now standing directly in front of him, the collar of his jacket in one hand, “w..what’re you doing?” Panic set in, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. 

“If you think I would try and hurt you in front of your friends, you’re deeply insulting my intelligence,” Tsukishima teased easily, picking up a delicate arrangement from the box Iwaizumi had previously brought over. 

Kuroo inhaled sharply, hoping desperately that Tsukishima didn’t pick up on it. The world began falling apart again. He stared at the man slightly bent before him, concentrating solely on pinning three separate boutineers to the fabric of Kuroo’s navy suit. His fingers were long, pale, and delicate - worry coiled in his stomach for those pale fingers, the needle threateningly close. Kuroo instead focused on Tsukishima’s face - light eyelashes, the slope of his nose, pink lips. Impossibly beautiful. Tsukishima stood up straight, meeting Kuroo eye for eye, “hi,” he whispered. Kuroo tried to keep himself from outwardly cringing - he was a fucking idiot. 

Tsukishima faltered, “hello, Kuroo-san,” the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk. 

“I feel like I’m watching a k-drama,” Bokuto whispered to Oikawa; both leaned against the counter, shoulders touching. 

Oikawa giggled behind his hand, looking at Bokuto, “I hope it’s a good show.” 

“Based on how much of an idiot Kuroo is being, it should be.” Iwaizumi interjected, watching with arms crossed over his chest, expression serious. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, “do I need to remind you this is not, in fact, a k-drama?” 

“How many episodes until they kiss?” Iwaizumi asked. 

“At least eight,” Akaashi responded without thinking. 

“What are you whispering about over there?” Kuroo asked, turning around to face his group of friends, “we may not be able to hear what you’re saying, but we can definitely hear you.” 

“Nothing important,” Bokuto shrugged it off, “Tsukki! Tell us about these!” 

“For the grooms - white ranunculus, dusty miller, pink hypericum berries, baby’s breath. The best men - burgundy amaryllis, white heather, a touch of leyland cedar. And finally, for the officiant - red carnation, thistle, gumdrop eucalyptus.” Tsukishima explained, pointing at each of them. 

Bokuto hummed, nodding along excitedly, “man Oikawa, I’m super glad Akaashi and I hired you. You found a flower genius!” 

“I’m not a genius, Bokuto-san,” Tsukishima muttered humbly. Kuroo didn’t miss the flush of his cheeks and the awkward fidgeting of Tukishima’s fingers against his apron. 

“And you didn’t hire me,” Oikawa mused, watching Bokuto fuss over the flowers pinned to the suit, “if you want to pay, though, I accept all major credit cards, check, and cash.” 

Akaashi straight up ignored his best friend, looking at Tsukishima, “shall we continue on to talking about centerpieces?” The six of them gathered around the counter, Tsukishima’s quiet voice answering the questions Bokuto and Akaashi threw at him. In every answer he was well thought-out and prepared, careful to take everything into consideration. When anyone said anything Tsukishima deemed of high importance he would jot it down on the corner of his sketches - Kuroo could practically see the arrangements blooming in his mind. He never wanted to leave the warm shop - the air heavy and humid, the hum of the air conditioner on the wall, the way fairy lights twinkled in the windows. 

It felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you’re getting as much joy out of this as I am. Please leave a comment or ‘kudo’ if you want :)
> 
> Feel free to check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


	5. Outer Peace | Inner Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally Tsukishima spent his Friday nights alone in his apartment, curled up under a blanket, book in hand, cup of tea steaming on his coffee table. This particular Friday Tsukishima had found himself unable to relax - he read the same page at least four times, he had reheated his tea twice, and his couch just wasn’t that comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how we got here, and definitely don’t know where we’re going. Please enjoy.

For the better part of a week, Kuroo had been pouting. He stuck to the same routine - wake up in the morning, go to the gym, shower, go to work, pick up dinner, come home, go to bed after watching whatever shitty TV show he found that night so he wouldn't think about honey colored eyes, long legs, and delicate fingers. He had made a fool out of himself and now would never be able to show his face anywhere near Tsukishima again, “hi,” he muttered to himself, staring at his diploma framed on the office wall, “fucking hi.” 

“Have you finally lost it?” Yaku’s eyebrows raised in question. 

“Possibly,” dramatic as ever, Kuroo had laid himself across his desk, cheek pressed against the smooth wooden surface. 

“Before you go, mind putting in a good word for me with your boss. I think I’d be a pretty good fit for your job,” he teased, “but seriously, we’re going for a drink, you wanna come?” He pointed over his shoulder at the small group of paralegals and junior accountants murmuring amongst themselves as they waited for the elevator, excited to be free from work. 

Kuroo sat up and shook his head, “I’m good. I have shit here I need to finish up and I’m pretty tired,” an easy excuse so Kuroo could get back to his own little pity party about making the blonde florist think he was a fucking idiot. 

“Well, if you’re sure.” Yaku hesitated a moment, but when Kuroo waved him off, the younger simply nodded and caught up to the group.

Silence. Kuroo’s shoulders sagged and he sat back in his chair, staring at the blank excel sheet in front of him. Over time the office fell into silence. By five, the secretary had left. By seven, the lights had gone out in the rest of the office. At eight the cleaners came, apologizing for the intrusion. At quarter to nine, his phone buzzed. FaceTime from Oikawa. 

“What?” Kuroo answered, chin resting on his fist. 

“Lovely to see you too, Kuroo.” 

Kuroo glowered at the camera, Oikawa only giggled, “was there something you needed?” 

“Ta~da!” Oikawa swung around and Kuroo recognized the building in the background as his office building, “I knew you were still at work ‘cause I have your location.” 

“Creep,” Kuroo smirked, “are you coming up or are you going to force me to come down there?” 

“No one should be working this late on a Friday, Kuroo.” 

“And what are you doing, then?” 

Oikawa’s eyebrow twitched - really Kuroo could be difficult when he wanted, “we’re going to see a friend.” 

—

Normally Tsukishima spent his Friday nights alone in his apartment, curled up under a blanket, book in hand, cup of tea steaming on his coffee table. This particular Friday Tsukishima had found himself unable to relax - he read the same page at least four times, he had reheated his tea twice, and his couch just wasn’t that comfortable today. He spent his time downstairs among flowers, occupying his mind by piecing together bouquets that he would sell tomorrow. 

Hana laid on the counter beside where Tsukishima worked, lazily batting flower stems as they passed. The cat whined, rolling over onto his side to stretch out, large paws reaching toward Tsukishima. He put the flowers to the side and reached out, scratching Hana’s chin, “ah, to be a spoiled house cat,” he ruminated, “no worries at all, just…” Tsukishima sighed, his mind beginning to wander. 

It had been one week. One week since he had seen half-lided eyes, messy hair, and the tinge of pink that pushed its way to Kuroo’s cheeks as Tsukishima pinned the boutonnieres onto his jacket. One whole week of Tsukishima trying everything to get them to go away - the same song on repeat, the TV on too loud - but nothing could get rid of the “hi” ringing in his ears. A few times he convinced himself that this was all just something he made up in his head; someone like Kuroo would never look at Tsukishima like that, it was simply a trick of the light. 

Miserably, Tsukishima pushed himself from his elbows, grabbed the finished arrangements, and walked to the front of the store where their empty vases were waiting. He placed them carefully, taking thought which ones would look best side-by-side. Across the street, Kuroo stood beside Oikawa, arms crossed over his chest. Tsukishima did a double take. Oikawa he was expecting, Kuroo not so much; he stood under the streetlamp, head back in a laugh. Tsukishima’s lips tucked neatly into a frown. Kuroo’s navy suit had been nice - the way it hugged the taut muscle of Kuroo’s arms, the white shirt underneath complimenting his skin tone. 

In the short seconds Tsukishima had been fixated on Kuroo, he decided this suit - Kuroo’s burgundy suit, was his new favorite. The jacket made his already broad shoulders seem broader, and the pants tapered off at the end, tight around his ankles. Tsukishima had to remind himself to breathe - Kuroo pairing that suit with a black turtleneck and gold watch should have been illegal. He turned away from the window, wishing desperately that the floor could open up and swallow him whole. 

The rap of knuckles against the door of his shop startled him, causing him to jump in place. Hana jumped off the counter, landing with a solid thud, and walked over to the door, tail high in the air. Unlike his owner, Hana very much enjoyed the company of strangers. Tsukishima took a deep breath, turned, and walked to the door. He bent down to grab Hana before clicking the lock and opening the door, “hello.” 

“Thank you for meeting me so late,” Oikawa smiled as he was let into the shop, “I had a client emergency that lasted a bit longer than I was hoping. How does a bridal shop order the wrong dress?” 

Tsukishima shook his head, closing the door behind both men, “there’s no reason to thank me,” he assured, “and probably the type that doesn’t wish to stay in business long.” Hana jumped from his arms and trotted off to sniff at the new guests.

Oikawa hummed thoughtfully, looking at Tsukishima from under long lashes. Objectively speaking, Oikawa was incredibly good-looking. Thick hair that swooped effortlessly against his forehead, perfect skin, toned body. His aura exuded nothing but confidence and every once and awhile Tsukishima caught himself staring a bit too long at him - it was impossible not to. Nothing ever seemed to be out of place on Oikawa, and today was no different - pressed navy pants, white sweater, and trench coat sat perfectly over his body. Every once and awhile, Tsukishima caught a glint in Oikawa’s eye that wasn’t quite as pure as his image projected, “sorry to drag Kuroo along.” 

For the first time since Kuroo entered the shop they looked at one another. Kuroo sat crouched, scratching a very happy Hana behind the ears, “hi,” he stood, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I’m beginning to think that’s all you say, Kuroo-san.” 

Kuroo blinked at Tsukishima, “do you always have an attitude with paying customers?” 

Tsukishima silently cursed Kuroo for crossing his arms, suit jacket stretching in all the right places, and grinning at him like that, “oh, so I should be getting Akaashi and Bokuto’s deposit check from you then? I don’t ever remember you being a customer of the store.” 

“You’re quick,” Kuroo observed. 

“Speaking of Bokuto, Akaashi, and deposits - here,” Oikawa passed a sealed envelope to Tsukishima, “I look forward to working with you on many weddings to come.” 

Tsukishima stared at the envelope, holding it tightly in his long fingers, “thank you for trusting me with such an important task. I hope I don’t let your friends down.” When Tsukishima looked back at Oikawa, Kuroo swallowed his heart. Tsukishima’s eyes gave away his emotions; the color swirled with doubt, and Kuroo wanted to go to him and convince him that he would never let anyone down. 

Oikawa hummed, his voice low, understanding, “based on the other week, you have nothing to worry about,” Oikawa smiled, “now that that’s done Akaashi, Bokuto, and Iwaizumi are waiting for us a few blocks away so we should probably get going.” 

Kuroo raised his eyebrows at his friend, “they are?” 

“M~hm,” Oikawa didn’t bother looking at Kuroo, “they asked me to bring Tsukishima along. Bokuto, insisted, actually.”

Tsukishima blinked, “I would hate to intrude.” 

“You were invited!” 

“You don’t know me that well.” 

“And we never will if you don’t come.” 

“Won’t it be awkward?” 

“Not if we don’t let it.” 

Tsukishima sighed, staring at Oikawa. His attention turned to Kuroo, “is he going to have an answer for everything I say?” 

“Quick and smart,” Kuroo praised. He took joy in the flush of Tsukishima’s cheeks. 

“At least let me get changed, first. My apartment is just up there,” he pointed at a door at the back of the shop that had been closed last time they were here. 

—

The apartment was on the smaller side, but for what Tsukishima needed, it seemed plenty big. The living room and kitchen were one large space - kitchen cabinets lined the back wall of the apartment, open shelving above them. A small island separated the space from a table in the corner, a chair on either side. Kuroo took note of the shopping list pinned to the fridge: cat food, milk, coffee, onions, salt. 

On the far side was Tsukishima’s living room - the back of the sofa separating the space. The TV sat opposite on a small table, the bottom organized to easily find whatever movie or game Tsukishima was looking for. To the left of that was a comfortable looking chair that Kuroo desperately wanted to make himself at home in. He seemed all too aware that behind rice paper doors was Tsukishima’s room. One day, maybe, he’d get to lay tangled in the sheets with him. 

“How cute!” Kuroo turned to find Oikawa holding up a picture frame. Inside a snapshot from a wedding - Tsukishima pressed in between the bride and groom, cheeks tinted red from alcohol, and a wide smile. The door slid open and Oikawa perked up, waving the photo, “Tsukki! Who’s this?” Tsukishima had changed into a knitted olive green sweater. He paired it with skinny, grey chinos. Over his shoulders he pulled on a jean jacket. 

Tsukishima looked at the photo, his expression softened with nostalgia, “Yamaguchi and Yachi. I’ve known Yamaguchi since I was a kid, and we met Yachi in high school.” 

“It’s a cute picture,” Oikawa placed it back where it belonged, careful not to disturb its surroundings, “hopefully one day we get to meet them.” 

He said it so confidently, as if saying he knew that Tsukishima would be around in the future. Tsukishima pressed his lips together and looked away from Oikawa’s steady gaze. Insecurity bloomed somewhere deep inside Tsukishima, making him want to shy away from these new people - if he never got close to anyone they wouldn’t be able to let them down. He swallowed down his self-doubt, “should we get going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging out with me on whatever this journey is. Please check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!
> 
> Appreciate everyone who has subscribed, commented, and left kudos. It’s giving me motivation to continue. :)


	6. Pure Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima finds out just how well he fits in with Kuroo’s friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little filler chapter kinda to move the plot along. Hope it’s not too boring to read!

“So, flowers?” Kuroo and Tsukishima walked beside one another, Oikawa lingering just behind the two of them. 

When Tsukishima looked at Kuroo, he didn’t find Kuroo looking back at him. Instead Kuroo’s eyes focused solely on the passing window displays, hand on the back of his neck. Tsukishima wondered briefly if this was a habit of his, “flowers,” Tsukishima repeated simply, “small bundles of joy that say things sometimes words can’t.” 

He chose what to say carefully, Kuroo realized, “not so good with your words, then?” The back of their hands brushed and Kuroo resisted the urge to reach out and capture Tsukishima’s hand in his own. 

“Sometimes,” the answer surprisingly honest, “what do you do?”

“Accountant at a law firm,” it sounded so lame compared to what Tsukishima had just said.

Tsukishima hummed, “impressive.”

Kuroo flushed at the praise, “you think?” 

Before Tsukishima could answer, Oikawa popped up between the two of them, arms wrapping around their shoulders, “we’re here!”

“You could have just announced that,” Tsukishima grumbled, hunched at an awkward angle. 

Another8 sat tucked between a white, stone facade. The interior bright and open, with long, pale wooden tables stretched out across the length of the building. Outside a small seating area arranged, with low hanging yellow lights and propane fueled heaters. Along the left hand side was the bar - long silver taps hung on the wall, bartenders pulling on them to fill large pint glasses. They found the rest of their group tucked into the back corner. 

Bokuto sat, back facing them, an arm slung comfortably around Akaashi’s shoulders. Tsukishima noticed the pattern of their sweaters matched, knitted clouds rolling across the fabric. Akaashi’s reminded him of sunset, when the sky burst into shades of lilac. Bokuto’s reminded him of daybreak, just as the sun changed dark blue to light. Each, Tsukishima thought, represented their personalities well - Akaashi comforting and warm; Bokuto bright and optimistic. Iwaizumi sat opposite them, sipping at his drink. When he saw his friends he raised a hand, causing Bokuto to turn quickly. 

“Tsukki! You came!” He stood, tumbling over his chair, to wrap Tsukishima in a hug. It took him off guard and he tensed, not sure what he was meant to do with his arms. Why did Bokuto greet him like an old friend? 

“Oh, yea.” He said once he was released, adjusting his glasses, “Oikawa-san was persistent.” 

“Don’t make him regret it,” Kuroo laughed, slamming a hand on Bokuto’s back, “I got the next round. What’s everyone want?” 

Drink orders were thrown at Kuroo and he disappeared over to the bar, leaning against it on his elbows. Bokuto shuffled Tsukishima into the seat beside Oikawa, “thanks for coming!” 

“I should be the one thanking you, Bokuto-san, not the other way around.” Tsukishima tugged off his jacket, leaving it to rest gently on the back of his chair. 

“We wanted you here, Tsukki,” Bokuto said it so easily for the two of them being strangers.

“Who’s idea was the sweaters?”

“That would be mine.” Iwaizumi raised his glass in the direction of Tsukishima, “Christmas gift a couple years ago.” He was softer than he projected - Tsukishima saw it in the way he cradled Oikawa’s face before going in for a kiss, in the way he brought home flowers when they’d been apart, and now in the way he treated his friends.

“Don’t we look cute?!” Bokuto pressed his cheek against Akaashi’s, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Very,” Oikawa snapped a picture, turning the phone to show the couple. 

Kuroo returned, placing a tray of drinks on the table, “your drinks, gentlemen,” he passed them before settling in the chair opposite Tsukishima. He raised his glass, looking directly into honey eyes, “to new friends.” 

Tsukishima wanted to die in that moment, the way Kuroo’s eyes focused on him, brimming with an emotion he wasn’t quite able to read, “that’s not-”

“To Tsukishima!” Oikawa interrupted with a laugh, clinking his glass against everyone else’s, “I think you’ll fit in well.” And Tsukishima did; quick-witted enough to keep up, calm enough to push against the chaos Kuroo, Bokuto, and Oikawa brought to the group.

After one drink Tsukishima stopped thinking so much about Bokuto’s questions, answering them easily. Kuroo learned that Tsukishima grew up in Miyagi, and sometimes missed the stars since moving to the city. That his favorite color was sage green, and despite never wanting a cat, found Hana living outside what was now his flower shop. Kuroo wanted to know more - to know everything. 

After two drinks, Kuroo decided that he was definitely going to fall in love with Tsukishima. This realization came to him when a cool breeze swept it’s way across the bar through the open door. Tsukishima shivered, curling into himself a bit. Kuroo didn’t fail to notice the small movement of the blonde pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands. When Tsukishima excused himself to use the restroom, Kuroo confessed this to his friends. Akaashi responded dead-pan with a simple, “no shit.” 

After three drinks, Oikawa wasted no time at getting to the point, “So, Tsukishima-kun, do you have a girlfriend?” 

A small laugh escaped Tsukishima as he looked at Oikawa through long lashes, “Oikawa-san do I look like the type of man who’d have a girlfriend?” The question was posed innocently enough, but Tsukishima didn’t look all that innocent.

Kuroo cleared his throat, blaming his rosy cheeks on the alcohol. 

After four drinks, Tsukishima decided it was time for him to leave. At the exclaims of protest, he huffed, “I have to work tomorrow,” after a few drinks, Tsukishima started to sound a bit whiny - Kuroo liked this, “if I stay any later I’ll regret it, and so will my customers.” 

“He’s right,” Iwaizumi finished the last of his beer with a swig, “it’s nearly one.”

Kuroo looked down at his watch, scratching his cheek, “shit where’d the time go?”

The group exited, thanking the servers and bartenders as they went. They loitered outside, reluctant to say goodbye, “we’ll do this again soon?” Bokuto asked, hands on Tsukishima’s shoulders. 

Tsukishima nodded, “of course. Thank you again for inviting me.” 

Bokuto grinned and leaned forward, wrapping Tsukishima in a hug for the second time that night. This time Tsukishima hugged back, patting Bokuto’s back with a gentle hand, “see you soon, Tsukki!” 

Tsukishima fiddled with his glasses, “soon,” he promised. Bokuto grinned and grabbed Akaashi’s hand dragging him in the direction of the subway. Tsukishima was unsure how he still had so much energy. He waved to Iwaizumi who muttered his goodbye as he battled with a drowsy Oikawa. Then it was just him and Kuroo, “I’m this way,” he nodded his head in the direction of his home. 

“Me too,” Kuroo answered. He wasn’t. 

They walked side-by-side, shoulders touching, “tonight was nice. I was feeling unsettled before.” 

“Any reason why?” Kuroo questioned, fingers twitching against Tsukishima’s. 

Tsukishima looked at Kuroo, his shoulders raised in a shrug, “not that I can think of,” the lie floated off his tongue easily. 

“Well, I’m glad we were able to help,” Kuroo nudged him, noticing the small upturn of Tsukishima’s lips. 

They walked in silence, the flower shop just in the distance. Even though Kuroo felt little sparks of electricity every time their hands brushed, he couldn’t work up the courage to reach out and take Tsukishima’s in his own. They crossed the street, coming to a slow stop outside a familiar door, “this is me. How much further are you?” 

“Not far,” a lie, Kuroo lived on the other side of the city, but walking Tsukishima home had been worth every minute of his longer commute, “glad I got you home safe,” he teased. 

Tsukishima snorted, fishing the keys from his jacket pocket, “I was very worried about making it here alone,” he played along. 

“Kuroo is fine, you know,” Kuroo said, his voice gentle if not a bit hesitant. 

Tsukishima nodded, staring at Kuroo for a few moments in silence, “thank you, Kuroo, for walking me home and saving me from any danger that lurks in our city.” 

“What can I say? I’m incredibly kind,” he placed a hand on his chest. 

Tsukishima shook his head in disbelief as he unlocked the front door, “goodnight, Kuroo.” He laughed, and Kuroo’s world fell apart again.

Kuroo grinned at Tsukishima “goodnight, Tsukishima.” He waited outside the shop until Tsukishima disappeared upstairs. Before he went, he glanced over his shoulder, and Kuroo waved his hand in a silent goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe so many of you have taken the time to read, comment, and subscribe! I e really appreciate every single thing. 
> 
> Please feel free to check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


	7. The Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima finds himself stuck in his shop with Yamaguchi, Yachi, and Kuroo. He wishes nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow him.

Tsukishima did not wake up with the sun. By the time his alarm sounded, it was well past eight in the morning. By the time he actually got himself out of bed, it was nine-thirty. Why did he let himself be dragged out last night? And why had he had so many drinks? An image of unruly brown hair and sly grin popped into his head - that’s why. He groaned, pushing the heels of his palm into his eyes. Hana rubbed against his leg, whining incessantly for his breakfast, “you have thumbs, can’t you do it yourself?” Tsukishima squinted down at the animal, everything a blur without his glasses. And while it was true, Hana did have an extra toe on each paw, they weren’t all that useful. He grabbed his glasses, “of course not.”

Hana only whined, stretching out in front of his owner, tail flicking in the air impatiently. When Tsukishima stood and made his way to the kitchen, Hana followed happily with a chirp. Before doing anything, Tsukishima started his coffee. God - he needed it. He stood there as it started to brew, staring at the stove before him; right now he couldn’t bring himself to do much else. Green numbers stared back at him: 9:45. He blinked. 9:46. 

Shit. The shop opened in fifteen minutes. 

In his rush to get downstairs, Tsukishima had left his coffee sitting in the pot. And being the only one who actually worked in the shop, he was stuck without it. His headache intensified from the lack of caffeine, and ten minutes into the shop being open, he was starting to think he wasn’t going to make it until six. He stood with his back to the door, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to will the headache away. The small bell attached to the door rang, and Tsukishima sighed, shoulders deflating even more. Right - the people. He turned, trying to muster a face that didn’t look too miserable. 

“You look miserable this morning,” Kuroo smirked, standing across the counter from Tsukishima. It was the first time Tsukishima had seen him in anything other than a suit, and the hope that Kuroo would suddenly be unattractive quickly withered away. Unfortunately for Tsukishima, Kuroo somehow looked better in a black t-shirt and grey joggers. 

“Isn’t it a bit cold for a t-shirt?” Tsukishima shot back, arms crossed over his chest. 

Kuroo laughed, throwing his head back, “don’t be like that, it’s a beautiful spring morning. Besides, I just finished up at the gym.” Tsukishima just now noticed a bag hanging from Kuroo’s shoulder. 

“How high is your tolerance?” Tsukishima grumbled, adjusting the glasses on his nose. 

“A lot higher than yours, apparently.” 

Tsukishima stared at him, not even having the energy to muster up a glare, “I woke up late and forgot my coffee.” 

“You live upstairs,” Kuroo pointed out. 

Tsukishima suddenly had the energy to glare, “and who, Kuroo, would I leave in charge of my shop?”

“Touché.” 

“...the lack of caffeine mixed with my lack of water last night is not making for a very easy morning,” Kuroo’s grin widened, Tsukishima squinted, “what?” 

“Lucky for you, I haven’t had my morning coffee yet either. What’ll you have? Starbucks is right there,” he motioned somewhere over his shoulder. 

Kuroo filed a little mental note that Tsukishima was grumpy without coffee. And even with Tsukishima standing across from him, arms crossed, bottom lip jutting out, Kuroo found him adorable, “fine,” Tsukishima finally muttered. He tore off a piece of paper from the pad next to his phone and quickly scribbled down his drink order, passing it over, “you can leave the bag.” 

“Thank you,” Kuroo passed the bag over to Tsukishima, “see you in a bit.” Before Kuroo turned, Tsukishima was pretty sure he winked. He took a step back, cheeks flaming, and hid behind his hand. How embarrassing could one person be? 

Before Tsukishima could even recover from Kuroo, the door opened once more - the bell had already started to annoy him, “Tsukki!”

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima greeted with a relaxed expression, “what’re you doing here?” 

“Starbucks,” he hummed, “Hitoka’s grabbing it now.” 

“There’s literally one a block from your apartment,” Tsukishima began to fidget with the pocket on his apron - really he didn’t want to explain Kuroo. How would he even explain Kuroo? What even was Kuroo?

Yamaguchi stared at him a moment, “Yachi wanted to hear about your meeting with Oikawa.” 

“That was a week ago,” 

“Yes,” Yamaguchi nodded, “but we haven’t actually seen you.” Yamaguchi stared at him, thin lips tucking neatly into a frown, “what’s going on?” His friend knew him far too well to miss when something was off about Tsukishima. 

“I’m unsure what you’re talking about,” Tsukishima turned his face away from Yamaguchi, busying himself with a bouquet of flowers to the left. 

“Tsukki…” 

—

Yachi was being followed. 

She noticed him first at Starbucks - he held the door open for her as she carefully carried her tray of three drinks, “thank you,” she hummed when she had successfully made it out of the busy entry without spilling. When he smiled, Yachi felt the heat rise to her cheeks. 

She didn’t notice him behind her until he picked up a phone call. Yachi glanced over her shoulder, watching him balance the tray of drinks in one hand, and hold his phone in the other. He certainly wasn’t quiet, and Yachi found no harm in listening to his conversation. 

“-off too strong….he was just with us last night I’m sure he has plans….it’s not an excuse….I’m not scared!” He barked into the phone, laughing with whoever was on the other end, “I’ll think about it….yes the worst thing he could say is no….Akaashi’s life would probably be much quieter if you never asked him out….not uncalled for….yes I’ll let you know….maybe….goodbye, Bokuto!” He grumbled and Yachi heard him shuffling to get his phone back in his pocket. 

When she turned the corner and finally made it across the street from Tsukishima’s shop, he didn’t continue, but instead waited at the intersection with her. She shuffled to the edge of the sidewalk so she could keep an eye on him out of the corner of her eye. Despite his hair, Yachi found him easy to look at - tanned skin, broad shoulders, and sweatpants that fit a little bit too snug around his thighs. When he caught her eye, she looked away, her face quickly turning a dark shade of red. 

Thankful that the light turned green, Yachi scurried across the street, trying to save herself the embarrassment of getting caught full-on checking someone out. At least she’d never see him again. 

It wasn’t weird leaving Starbucks, and it wasn’t weird as they crossed the street, but this man reaching over her shoulder as she struggled to get the door to Tsukishima’s shop open, was definitely weird, “are you following me?” She flushed, turning around to stare up at Kuroo. 

“Wasn’t meaning to,” Kuroo offered her a small smile, “just ended up going to the same place.” There was a nagging feeling in the back of Kuroo’s head - why did he recognize her? 

Yachi squinted at him, “why are you bringing two coffees to a flowershop?” 

“Why are you bringing three?” 

She huffed, blowing her bangs away from her forehead, “I will have you know that my best friend owns this establishment and my husband is inside with him now.” 

That’s where he recognized her - the photo in Tsukishima’s apartment, “I see.” 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yachi fussed, cheeks still uncomfortably warm. 

Before Kuroo could respond, Tsukishima pulled open the door, looking at both of them, “you’re scaring off potential business.” 

“Yea, you heard him,” Yachi nodded enthusiastically, handing the tray of drinks off to Yamaguchi. 

“I was talking to both of you,” Tsukishima stared at them both, “please come inside, now.” 

Yachi glanced at Kuroo warily and did as instructed, “who is he?” 

“Kuroo - this is Tadashi and Hitoka Yamaguchi. Tadashi, Hitoka...Kuroo.” Tsukishima made the introduction quick, hoping there was nothing more to it then that, “I still call her Yachi though,” he added as an after-thought, expression softening.

“Hello~” Kuroo hummed with a wave, “nice to meet you.” 

Yachi and Yamaguchi just blinked at the two of them, waiting for more of an explanation, “he’s the best man in the wedding I’m doing.” 

“Oh,” Yamaguchi watched Tsukishima and Kuroo closely, glancing at his wife after a moment to have some sort of silent conversation. Tsukishima hated when that sly little smile settled on Yamaguchi’s lips and dread began to settle in Tsukishima’s stomach, “didn’t know you were having a meeting for the wedding. Where’s the happy couple?”

Tsukishima thought Kuroo looked all too amused, “no meeting. I was just here to check on Tsukki after last night.”

“Last night?” The question came from Yachi this time. 

Tsukishima hated all of them. Every. Single. One. He took a deep breath, “must we have this conversation now?” Honey colored eyes flicked from Yamaguchi and Yachi to Kuroo. 

Kuroo took the hint, “I’ll let you talk to your friends. Make sure you mention all my good qualities.”

“What good qualities?” 

Kuroo laughed, “Oikawa and Iwaizumi invited us over tonight for drinks and games. I can’t say any games ever get finished, but it’s still fun to rile up Bokuto.” Kuroo grabbed the pad to the side, quickly writing down his number, “once you’ve finished your coffees and stop pouting,” 

“I am not pouting, Kuroo. And I don’t think Bokuto needs anymore riling up.” 

This earned Tsukishima another laugh, “text me and let me know if you’re coming. We’ll go over together. 

Tsukishima tore the paper from the pad, folding it neatly so he could place it in his pocket, “are the five of you attached at the hips?” 

“Says the man with two friends bringing him coffee at work,” Kuroo answered easily, dropping the pen back to the countertop, “I’ll see you later, Tsukki.” He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, bowed to Yachi and Yamaguchi, and swiftly left the shop, leaving a bright red Tsukishima behind. 

The door closed softly behind Kuroo and the shop fell quiet; Tsukishima focused on the bubbling fountain and scratchy indie music playing from the speakers, anything but the looks Yamaguchi and Yachi were giving him. 

“Tsukishima Kei,” Yachi broke the silence, “what was that?” 

“There is so much to unpack here,” Yamaguchi nodded in agreement, “you didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend.” 

Tsukishima scowled behind a sip of his coffee, “Kuroo is not my boyfriend. I met Kuroo a week ago and then he and Oikawa kidnapped me into drinking with them last night. That is all.” 

Yachi hummed. 

“He is just Kuroo.” 

“Kageyama was just Kageyama until he was Tobio.” 

Tsukishima hesitated a moment, keeping his hands busy with a small batch of red carnations, “this is nothing like Tobio.” 

They all knew that this was exactly like Tobio; they knew from the way the tips of Tsukishima’s ears turned pink, from the way his hands couldn’t stay still whenever Kuroo was mentioned, and from the way everything Tsukishima felt swirled into the color of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and being here! I know this moves slow, and I really appreciate the fact that so many of you are giving it time. 
> 
> Feel free to check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


	8. A Roomful of Memories and Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima reflects on the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back again! Wanted to do a cute little background sort of chapter before I really move into the Kuroo & Tsukishima dynamic. Hope you enjoy!

They met the summer of their second year. 

August was always unbearably hot in Miyagi. He laid across the floor in Yamaguchi’s bedroom, clothes sticking to his skin. A fan moved side to side, and when the wind ruffled his blonde hair, Tsukishima let his eyes close. At the age of sixteen, his limbs were still too long for his body, his face not quite void of it’s boyish charm. 

“God,” Yamaguchi whined. Tsukishima was glad to hear from him, he was beginning to think his friend had gotten heat poisoning and died, “has it ever been this hot before?” 

“Every single year for sixteen years.” 

The friends fell into silence, suffocating in the humidity of early afternoon. Tsukishima wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, too lethargic to do anything else. He noticed the sun had moved, throwing shadows around Yamaguchi’s room at awkward angles. 

Yamaguchi broke the silence again, “Yachi has a pool at her apartment building.” 

Tsukishima sat up, resting his biceps on bent knees, “you mean to tell me that we have been laying in your room sweating for the past,” he paused to look at the time on his phone, “two-and-a-half hours and Yachi has a pool? I hate you, Yamaguchi.” 

They arrived at Yachi’s thirty minutes later, towels slung over their shoulders. A family was moving in down the hall, boxes piled outside their open door. Kageyama walked from the apartment, grabbing a box labeled ‘Tobio.’ They locked eyes. Tsukishima couldn’t look away, caught in pools of blue. 

The door opened. Tsukishima looked at Yachi, only to find Kageyama gone when he glanced back. When he asked her about it, she shrugged, “my mom said they’re back from America.”

He doesn’t remember how they all ended up at the pool together, “America, huh?” Tsukishima asked when Yachi and Yamaguchi went off to get them all ice cream. 

“Yes,” Kageyama’s answers were always short and to the point, Tsukishima didn’t mind, “we moved there when I was twelve for my dad’s job, but it was a contract position so now we’re back.” Tsukishima hummed in response, settling his chin on folded arms as he rested against the side of the pool, “you’re naturally blonde.” 

Tsukishima smirked a bit, looking at the teenager beside him, elbows touching, “my grandmother’s English.” 

That night, hidden by the darkness of the room, he admitted to Yamaguchi that maybe he had a crush on Kageyama. When Yamaguchi flipped on the bedside light, Tsukishima looked so small - nose and mouth hidden by the blanket, eyes swimming with uncertainty. He sat up and patted the bed beside him, waiting for Tsukishima to sit beside him to speak, “maybe?” 

Tsukishima sighed, pulling his knees to his chest, “not sure what having a crush is like.” 

“When I see Yachi, my stomach does that thing where it feels like I’m falling. And when I’m around her I always feel warm, and I want to keep being around her. She’s fun and I enjoy our conversation. Not to mention I think she’s really, really, really pretty,” Yamguchi blushed.

“I think Kageyama is really pretty,” Tsukishima confessed in a whisper. 

Their love was awkward and fumbling, much like they were. Neither Tsukishima nor Kageyama were very outspoken with their affection, and outsiders would think the two of them hated one another by the way they interacted. If they were to really look, though, they would see soft glances and even softer touches; both timid and unsure.

They spent time huddled in Kageyama’s bed, long limbs tangled together. Tsukishima made a habit of playing with Kageyama’s hair, running his long fingers through dark strands, “you can call me Tobio, if you want.” 

Tsukishima kissed him. 

They got caught a year into their relationship. The two of them were being careless, really, but with Kageyama’s lips on his neck, how were either of them meant to think straight. The door opened, keys were dropped into a shallow dish, and then he was staring Kageyama’s father in the eye. 

Things got awkward for a while. Kageyama’s father wasn’t thrilled, and Tsukishima had a hard time telling his own family. They only saw each other at Yamaguchi’s, and Kageyama would rest his head on Tsukishima’s shoulder. When things settled, they went back to spending time in bed - only this time under Tsukishima’s green sheets. 

“Let’s move to Tokyo after graduation,” Kageyama muttered, fighting off sleep. 

They did. Him, Kageyama, Yachi, and Yamaguchi crammed into a small, shitty apartment in between all their schools. The space was too small, and the four often found themselves bickering. Their fights would always end with an apology over takeout. It was dysfunctional on a level, but flowers bloomed in Tsukishima’s chest every time he looked at Kageyama. 

Yachi and Yamaguchi moved out their second year; Yamaguchi to spend a year in London studying English Literature, and Yachi to Seoul, interning at some Kpop label Tsukishima could never remember the name of. Their too small apartment was suddenly too big, and they took time to settle into the emptiness their friends left behind. 

By their third year, the blooms in Tsukishima’s chest began to wither. They fought - constantly - about everything. The shoes left in the middle of the room, why the toothpaste cap was left off and toothpaste oozed out onto the counter, how Tsukishima always had to get the last word in, how Kageyama was so fucking stubborn. 

“I’m not happy anymore,” Kageyama admitted late one night over the kitchen table. They had been fighting, Tsukishima doesn’t remember about what. The words rang in his ear, and he felt the last of the petals fall from the bloom in his chest. 

Tsukishima looked at him. Kageyama appeared worn down, with a sag in his shoulders that normally wasn’t there, “I’m not either,” he admitted quietly. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, flowers just die. 

He didn’t cry about it for a while. Not until after Kageyama moved out and Tsukishima found an old t-shirt of his that still smelled like his shampoo. He sat with his back against the door, pressing his face into the cotton fabric. Kageyama held a lot of firsts for Tsukishima: first relationship, first love, first heartbreak. 

He ended up in Boston at Harvard Medical School and was currently in his second year of residency. Tsukishima stared at the Instagram post that had popped up on his timeline a few months ago, Kageyama standing in tight fitting green scrubs beside someone Tsukishima only knew by “w.ushiji.” He didn’t miss the way Kageyama leaned into the man in the white lab coat. Tsukishima locked his phone with a sigh, and left it face down in the back of the shop for the rest of the day. 

Tsukishima hasn’t dated anyone since. Not for lack of trying, simply because no one had made flowers bloom like Kageyama. Until Kuroo. The bud in his chest opened, revealing large, red petals. 

He grabbed his phone, carefully typing in Kuroo’s number. 

**To: Kuroo**  
_Where should I meet you? I close the shop in fifteen._

The response from Kuroo came almost instantly. 

**From: Kuroo**  
_!!!!!  
You’re actually coming?!  
Surprised we haven’t scared you off 😂  
-location-  
Meet me at mine at 7!!!!_

Tsukishima pulled up the map on his phone, squinting down at the little pin that showed where Kuroo’s apartment was. 

**To: Kuroo**  
_I thought you said you lived close to me?_

**From: Kuroo** _…  
It seems as though I’ve been caught in a lie  
Do you blame me though?  
Just wanted to walk a cute guy home 😳_

Tsukishima’s cheeks burned as he glared at the message. 

**To: Kuroo**  
_I’ll see you at 7._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we’ve made it to the end of another chapter. If you want, feel free to leave kudos, give me a comment, or subscribe! I love reading everything y’all say and it makes me :) knowing there’s people out there who are enjoying this! 
> 
> Feel free to check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


	9. These Are the Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo’s friends are nice, and Tsukishima is losing control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back to this wild ride :)

Kuroo lived in one of those fancy high-rises in the financial district - the ones that appeared to be made of nothing but glass. Tsukishima was greeted by a doorman wearing a red uniform and directed toward the elevators over on the left hand side of the massive lobby. He waited for the doors to slide open, keeping his eyes busy by following the black veins in the marble floor. They opened with a soft melody and Tsukishima stepped in, hands balled into fists in his pockets. He observed himself in the reflective doors, tugging at his oatmeal colored cardigan. It hung off his wide shoulders - oversized, with a large knit pattern; the t-shirt he had on underneath matched perfectly in color. He decided on simple, black jeans and a pair of white slip-ons. Yamaguchi said he looked good, and Tsukishima was going to trust that. 

Before reaching the thirteenth floor, he glanced once more at the apartment number: 1352. It was easy to find. Take a left after getting off the elevator and follow the hallway down to the end. On the right was Kuroo’s apartment, silver numbers hanging from the black door. Tsukishima wrapped his fingers in the sleeves of his cardigan and reached out, rapping his fabric covered knuckles against it. He stepped back a bit, adjusting the sweater - it now started to feel uncomfortable. Tsukishima reminded himself that this definitely wasn’t a date, and it really didn’t matter if Kuroo liked his outfit or not.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Kuroo opened the door, “being on time isn’t one of my strong points.” He stood before Tsukishima hand on the back of his neck with a-not-so-innocent smile. Kuroo’s shirt was on - kind of; the buttons were undone, fabric moving to the side as Kuroo pushed against the door to keep it open. The shirt, a light material patterned with burgundy, white, and black stripes, was fitting for Kuroo. “Come in, come in,” he ushered, stepping back into the apartment, “I already told Oikawa we were running behind. Blamed it on myself, though, don’t worry.” Tsukishima hated him a little bit for being so attractive - chest and stomach taut with muscle. 

Tsukishima swallowed, trying his best not to stare openly at Kuroo’s tan skin. Impossible, he decided, it was definitely impossible, “pardon the intrusion,” he muttered in passing, catching sight of the gold chain resting comfortably over his collar bone. As Kuroo shut the door behind Tsukishima, he glanced over his shoulder, taking note the way Kuroo’s black jeans stretched over his legs. Fucking Kuroo. 

The apartment was a little smaller than Tsukishima’s, but based on the location and how modern it was, he figured it probably cost close to double what Tsukishima was paying. The space was open, the door leading into a galley kitchen with stainless countertops and sleek, black cabinets. There wasn’t a dining table, only four bar stools on the other side of the island. Kuroo’s TV was on, situated just in front of large windows that overlooked the city. To the right, the wall was pushed back, revealing Kuroo’s bedroom. Burgundy sheets, white duvet, nightstand messy with half-full glasses. He wondered for a moment, what it would be like to be wrapped in those blankets, surrounded by everything that was Kuroo, “you need some plants.” 

“Oho? You know where I could get some?” Kuroo’s shirt had been done up, and Tsukishima thought that was an incredible shame. 

Tsukishima looked down his nose at Kuroo, “I know a place, but it’s pretty far from your apartment.”

Kuroo clicked his tongue, “ass.” Tsukishima laughed, nothing more than a small burst of air from his nose, and the upturn of pretty pink lips. Kuroo desperately wanted to kiss him. To distract himself he rolled up his sleeves so they sat snug around his forearms, “ready?” 

“I’ve been ready,” Tsukishima reminded. 

“I’ll uninvite you without any hesitation.” 

Kuroo driving an expensive car shouldn’t have been as hot as it was (then again, Kuroo doing anything shouldn’t have been as hot as it was). Tsukishima knew nothing about cars, but he knew enough to know that Kuroo’s was nice, “if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to show off.” 

He laughed, glancing at Tsukishima as he shifted gears, “you don’t seem like the type to be impressed by flashy cars.” 

Tsukishima adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, “well, Kuroo-san that depends on who’s driving.” 

Kuroo blushed, looking at Tsukishima from the corner of his eye, “bold, aren’t you?” 

Tsukishima only shrugged. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find out Oikawa and Iwaizumi lived in Meguro, their apartment building on a quiet corner. They lived on the fourth and highest floor, a cheesy welcome mat with two aloe plants and “Aloe There!” was placed perfectly in front of the door. Tsukishima wrinkled his nose at the pun, hating it. “Oikawa has horrible humor.” 

Kuroo laughed, “I think it’s cute.” 

“Then you have horrible humor, too.” 

Tsukishima liked the sound of Kuroo’s laugh - the way it sat deep in his chest, the way it got a little bit ugly when he found something particularly funny. He sunk his fingers into the loose knit of his cardigan and pulled it tighter around his center, trying to tame the butterflies fluttering in his abdomen. 

Kuroo gazed at Tsukishima, never seeing anyone quite as pretty. He had looked at him countless times, memorizing every slope and curve of his face, the way his fingers pulled at anything nearby the moment he felt uncomfortable, blonde curls, golden eyes, but never realized just how beautiful he was. Suddenly insecure, Kuroo ran a hand through his messy hair, eyebrows settling in worry. 

Tsukishima knocked, his knuckles quiet against the door. “It looks fine, you know.” Kuroo looked at him, eyebrows still furrowed, “your hair. It looks fine.” He felt awkward now that he had to explain it, and almost instantly he regretted saying it, “also, you’re nearly thirty - if you keep making that face, you’re going to get wrinkles.” 

Kuroo didn’t have the chance to respond before Iwaizumi opened the door and Tsukishima had disappeared inside the apartment. He stood there, staring at Iwaizumi looking incredibly deflated, “Iwa…” 

“Don’t. You sound like my boyfriend.” Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose, “the world does not need two Oikawas.” 

Kuroo snickered. Behind Iwaizumi, Tsukishima had been wrapped in a very large hug by Bokuto, “it’s like I’m cool one second and then he does something and catches me off guard and…” his whining died into a grumble and he crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the man before him. 

Iwaizumi blinked, “I think you should just ask him out so I don’t have to listen to this.” 

“How long, exactly, did it take you to ask out Oikawa?” Kuroo grinned. 

The door slammed in his face. 

—

“Let’s do shots!” Oikawa popped out from behind the large kitchen wall, a bottle of tequila in his hand. The apartment was nice - nicer than anything he could probably ever afford. Unlike Kuroo’s apartment, cloaked in dark colors, Oikawa and Iwaizumi kept theirs light, open, and airy. The wood floors were wide, bamboo colored planks. They entered into a hallway, passing a bathroom, a bedroom, and a small office space. It opened into a kitchen, with wooden cabinets, and retro-styled mint colored appliances. To the left was the dining room, an impressive light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The group had huddled in the living room; Tsukishima and Kuroo sat together on the loveseat, Bokuto next to Iwaizumi on the opposite couch, and Akaashi between Bokuto’s legs on the floor, sipping his beer. The sliding door was open, letting a cool spring breeze drift through the apartment. It had been a few hours - food had been ordered and eaten, no games had been played, and Tsukishima found himself getting too comfortable too quick. Tsukishima needed control in his life, and this, whatever this was, felt out of his control. 

He couldn’t control the fact that every single time Kuroo looked at him that bloom in his chest grew, more flowers sprouting. Or the way that when Bokuto hugged him Tsukishima wanted to stay there a little bit longer because he was just so warm. Akaashi and Iwaizumi felt a little safer than Bokuto and Kuroo, often jumping in to save him when things got too overwhelming. Tsukishima found Oikawa amusing, his humor a bit dark, and they often went back and forth playing around. As much as he loved Yachi and Yamaguchi, it was nice to be surrounded by people that weren’t straight; people he could openly be himself around and not have to worry about any passing judgement. 

“What are we in college?” Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder at Oikawa.

Oikawa pouted at him, “it’s nice to pretend, isn’t it?”

“Bokuto is driving so I will partake,” Akaashi spoke up, placing his glass down on the wooden coaster. 

“Oh. I haven’t seen drunk Akaashi in a long time,” Oikawa reached for the shot glasses in the cabinet above the fridge, the hem of his already cropped shirt raised, and Tsukishima caught the bottom of a script tattoo delicately placed over his ribs. 

“One shot, Oikawa, is not going to make me drunk,” Akaashi uncrossed his legs and stood, making sure to place a quick kiss on Bokuto’s lips on the way up. He walked over and leaned against the counter opposite Oikawa, fingers around the shot glass. 

Oikawa only hummed, pouring the clear liquid into the glass between Akaashi’s fingers, “Tsukki? I’m sure Kuroo will drive you home.”

“I haven’t had a shot in years, Oikawa,” Tsukishima adjusted the glasses on his nose before standing despite his protest. 

“Yay!” Oikawa poured a third one and giggled, “what should we cheers to?”

“Does it need to be a whole thing?” Tsukishima asked.

“To game night with Tsukishima!” Akaashi announced, raising his small glass. It was the loudest Tsukishima had heard him thus far. 

Tsukishima wrinkled his nose, snickering a bit. His chest flooded with warmth, “fine, then.”

Bokuto peered into the kitchen, leaning forward so he could tap Kuroo on the knee, “Kuroo.”

“I literally can’t see you,” Kuroo responded, head turned away from Bokuto, closing his eyes just for good measure. 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot!” Iwaizumi stood and grabbed Kuroo, laughing as he struggled; Iwaizumi was far stronger and easily forced Kuroo in between him and Bokuto on the couch, hand on the back of his neck. It really did look like Kuroo was a kitten being scolded, “you can’t let this pass you by.”

“I know I’ve been dubbed the idiot of the group, but even I can see that he’s amazing. He can keep up with you, and us! Also would probably level you out some,” Bokuto patted Kuroo’s knee, “ask him out before someone else does. Tokyo is not a small city.”

Kuroo grumbled, looking incredibly small between the two men, his shoulders hunched, “I’m scared.”

Iwaizumi sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead, “Kuroo, seriously, what is there to be scared of? You two flirt so openly it even makes Oikawa want to vomit.” 

Bokuto laughed, wrapping his arms around his middle to grip at his sides, “Oikawa is such a sap.”

“Why aren’t we talking about how Iwaizumi still hasn’t proposed to Oikawa?” Kuroo desperately tried to change the subject. 

“Tsukki! You have a tattoo!” Oikawa oohed, holding Tsukishima’s arm. Kuroo’s attention was instantly taken from the two beside him, focused solely on the conversation from the kitchen. 

Tsukishima’s cardigan had been tossed to the side. Oikawa held his arm out and sleeve up, showing a small tattoo on the inside of his arm, “I have three actually.”

“Can I ask of what?”

Tsukishima nodded at Akaashi, “this one is hyacinth,” he pointed at the small flower on his inner bicep - the one Oikawa had seen first. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, showing off a small moon just underneath his collar bone, “space is cool,” was his only explanation. He bent down, tugging the pant leg up above his ankle, showing a set of numbers, “coordinates of the park where Yamaguchi and I met. He has the same one.” 

Kuroo looked at Bokuto and then Iwaizumi, “do you think soulmates are real?” Overwhelmed was an understatement. He had only met Tsukishima a week ago, so feeling this way was insane. Absolutely. Fucking. Insane. There was no reason for his heart to be beating so hard, or for the world to fall apart every single time he learned something new about Tsukishima. 

“The world stopped when I met Oikawa,” Iwaizumi glanced at his boyfriend before looking back at Kuroo, “it was terrifying. It still is terrifying.”

“I think it’s exciting!” Bokuto chimed in, “I don’t get the whole world stopping thing, just that when I look at Akaashi everything is okay. Literally, society could crumble and everyone could die, but as long as I had Akaashi with me everything would be okay. My life without Akaashi…” Bokuto visibly shuttered. 

Kuroo sighed, pushing his face into his hands, “the world falls to pieces. I see it crumble every single time I look at him, and then suddenly I’m free falling into nothing. I hate it. I want it to stop.” A large hand settled on Kuroo’s shoulder, the rough palm belonging to Iwaizumi. 

The night passed quickly. Oikawa had decided it was finally time to start playing games - he suggested spin the bottle, but that was immediately shot down by everyone except Bokuto. They bickered for a bit amongst themselves, listing off different games. Akaashi wanted to play scrabble, which Tsukishima didn’t mind, but the rest of them objected. Bokuto wanted to play poker (but with a twist!) until Iwaizumi reminded him that he had the absolute worst poker face. Kuroo suggested Pictionary, and after a few moments of silence, they all agreed (after Oikawa told Bokuto that he had to draw with his left hand). Bokuto and Akaashi still won. Oikawa and Iwaizumi came in dead last, mainly because Oikawa couldn’t fucking draw to save his life. 

By the time they left, Tsukishima had all of their numbers, and had been added to the infamous group chat he heard about. When Kuroo pulled up outside his apartment, the message icon had a small, red ‘10’ beside it, “are they always this talkative?” 

Kuroo looked at Tsukishima with a chuckle, “and I’m not even texting in it yet.” 

“I’ll have to mute the notifications, then,” Kuroo didn’t miss the fondness in Tsukishima’s voice. 

“Thanks for coming tonight.”

Tsukishima fiddled with the tiny switch on the side of his phone, turning the sound on and off, “thank you for inviting me.” He didn’t want to get out of the car, he didn’t want to leave Kuroo, “I had fun.” 

Kuroo nodded, “me too.” 

Silence. 

“I should let you go,” Kuroo was an idiot.

Tsukishima nodded, “probably.”

Silence. 

“Or you can come up? If you want?” 

“Yes!” Kuroo was too quick with his answer, instantly clearing his throat, “if that’s okay, I mean.” 

Tsukishima laughed behind his hand, as if trying to hide it from Kuroo, “I wouldn’t have invited you up if I didn’t want you to say yes.” 

Kuroo’s heart stopped. He couldn’t move. He would remember this image of Tsukishima forever, he was sure of it. Tsukishima stared at him, the street lamp casting a yellow glow around him. His cheeks blossomed a pretty shade of pink, eyes wide and shining with an emotion Kuroo couldn’t quite read, “Tsukishima.”

“Mhm?” 

“Has anyone ever told you just how fucking beautiful you are?” The words came out before Kuroo could stop them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it maybe was a tiny bit mean to end it like this? 
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who is reading, leaving comments, and left kudos. i am having so much fun with this and hope you are too! 
> 
> feel free to check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


	10. At Ease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo woke in a tangle of limbs, his face pressed into a mess of blonde hair. He inhaled - Tsukishima smelled faintly like strawberry shampoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...just kiss...

Tsukishima froze, his fingers gripping the tops of his knees. He stared at Kuroo, lips parted as they tried to find words. Anxiety was a funny thing, choosing to claw its way into his chest at the absolute worst time. Tsukishima forgot how to breathe. He had to remember, had to react, because watching Kuroo’s expression twist into something between humiliation and horror made his heart drop to his stomach. 

“Holy shit Tsukishima, I…I am so so-“ Kuroo’s words were rushed, jumbled together, scrambling whatever shred of dignity he had left to try and piece it back together. 

“Once,” He finally let out a breath, falling back into the seat of the car. Tsukishima closed his eyes, putting bouquets together behind his lids. It was something he knew more than anything, and reciting it to himself caused his anxiety to settle, “less swearing, but just as blunt.” Tsukishima turned his head to look at Kuroo.

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh, his body sagging in relief, “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not.”

A scoff, “what could possibly make you say that?”

Tsukishima took a deep breath, “because, Kuroo, you’re…” Tsukishima didn’t think beautiful was a fair way to describe Kuroo. Capturing everything that Kuroo was in a single work seemed impossible, “because you make flowers bloom in my chest.”

“Me?”

Tsukishima laughed, pushing his glasses up onto his head so he could rub his eyes, “who else, Kuroo?”

Kuroo slammed back into reality. The weight of their conversation hung heavy in the air, each too timid to say anything more. He glanced at the blonde, who was placing wire framed glasses back on the bridge of his nose, “well I think it’s safe to say we’ve each made a fool of ourselves.”

The tension broke, “if anything I just felt bad for you and had to make myself look equally as foolish,” Tsukishima pushed the door open and climbed out of the car. He looked at Kuroo over top of the vehicle, annoyed at how fucking nice he managed to look in the shitty hue of the streetlamp behind him, “thanks, though, for the compliment.” 

Kuroo laughed, watching Tsukishima walk across the street toward his home. He took two large steps, easily catching up, “you think you’re funny, don’t you?” 

Tsukishima hummed in thought, pushing into the shop, “in a way, maybe.” He smirked at Kuroo before ducking into the store, holding the door open, “sometimes I wish I had another entrance. It gets annoying having to always come in through the store.”

Kuroo noted that along with whiny, alcohol made Tsukishima ramble. He figured it was more or less that drinking made him think less, “you talk a lot you know,” Kuroo followed Tsukishima up stairs, tugging his jacket from his shoulders as soon as they stepped into the apartment. 

“If I’m comfortable I guess,” Tsukishima nodded, “this is probably just 'cause of the drinking,” he teased easily, stepping into the kitchen. Kuroo didn’t miss the little snicker that escaped Tsukishima as he leaned down to grab a bottle from the fridge, “beer or something else?”

“What else ya got?” Kuroo leaned against the counter, blinking when Hana jumped up in front of him. The cat settled before him, tucking his paws underneath a large body. Kuroo stared at him. Hana stared back, tail moving back and forth slowly. 

“Water,” Tsukishima answered, glancing over his shoulder. He did a double take and grumbled, picking Hana from the counter and holding him under the front arms. The cat's long body dangled before Tsukishima, head turning toward Kuroo as if asking for help, “you know you don’t belong on the counter. Just because you’re interested in Kuroo doesn’t mean suddenly it’s alright you’re up there.” He blinked and brought the cat to his chest, looking at Kuroo. 

“Don’t mind me. You can continue acting like I’m not here.” 

“Please,” Kuroo didn’t miss the hint of red that came to Tsukishima’s cheeks as he let Hana jump from his arms. The cat trotted across the apartment and scaled the climber to lounge across the top perch, “did you want something to drink?”

“Beer works.”

Tsukishima nodded and ducked back into the fridge, grabbing another bottle from the side. He popped the cap and passed it across the counter, “so I feel like you know far more about me than I know about you. Your friends are nosy.”

Kuro laughed, pushing himself from the counter when Tsukishima walked to the couch, “they’re your friends, too.” Kuroo placed himself beside Tsukishima, stretching his long legs out, “whatcha wanna know then?” He looked at him, resting his head on his fist. 

A shrug, “haven’t really thought that far.”

Kuroo hummed, watching as Tsukishima tugged the sweater down over his hands, wrapping long, bony fingers into the knit fabric, “you don’t strike me as the unprepared type.”

He practically felt the roll of Tsukishima’s eyes, “I’m sorry I’ve had far too much to drink to come compared with a list of questions to ask you.”

“The first thing you want to ask then?”

Tsukishima scrunched his lips in thought, “first thing?”

“First thing.”

“What’s that thing you’re probably a little bit too obsessed with? Everyone has one, whether it be a series, collection, band, or whatever...” Tsukishima shrugged. 

Kuroo took a swig from his beer, using the time to think, “honestly? Grey’s Anatomy. It’s this American show that’s been on for years. I only found it a year ago - I was visiting Kenma in California and there was a marathon playing in the background and I just got hooked. When I got back to Tokyo I binged all sixteen seasons in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Ask everyone, I fell off the face of the earth for weeks.” 

Tsukishima laughed - Kuroo’s heart stopped, “Kenma’s someone important to you then?” 

“How’d you know?” 

“Your eyes,” Tsukishima answered easily, “when you look at someone you care about, your eyes become a little less dull. It happened when you said Kenma’s name, too.” 

How many times had Kuroo found his world falling apart? Their conversation came easily, neither minding when it lulled into silence. The TV filled in their pockets of silence, bright flashes of moving pictures lighting up Tsukishima’s dark apartment. Kuroo fell asleep first, head resting against Tsukishima’s shoulder. He moved carefully to take a rust colored blanket and laid it over Kuroo. Tsukishima wasn’t sure when he fell asleep - sometime during an episode of One Piece, the opening echoing in his mind. 

Kuroo woke in a tangle of limbs, his face pressed into a mess of blonde hair. He inhaled - Tsukishima smelled faintly like strawberry shampoo. The warmth the blond exuded caused Kuroo’s arms to tighten around Tsukishima’s small waist, sneaking his hands just below the hem of his shirt. The apartment was still cast in a hazy shade of blue, the sun not quite up yet. Kuroo, groggy with sleep, head heavy with a hangover, allowed himself to be lulled back to an easy sleep without complaint. 

Long after the orange poppies on Tsukishima’s windowsill opened their petals, a melodic tone drifted across the apartment. Kuroo reached out, feeling around with his eyes closed. He knocked over a few bottles, eventually finding his phone. He squinted at the screen and accepted the FaceTime from Bokuto, “feh.” Barely a greeting, but Kuroo was barely awake. 

Bokuto furrowed his eyebrows, leaning in close to his screen, as if that would somehow make the image clearer to him, “where are you?” 

Kuroo rubbed his face, barely holding the phone up, “the fuck do you mean? I’m at my house.” 

“You aren’t.” 

Kuroo blinked at his phone, becoming aware of the unfamiliar weight on his chest. He looked down to see yellow eyes staring back, “I’m not at home.” 

“I said that!” Bokuto grinned, “are you at Tsu-”

Kuroo ended FaceTime, sending a quick text to Bokuto saying sorry, but he would call him later. He sat up, Hana jumping from his chest at the sudden movement. The table beside him was littered with empty bottles of beer, a pillow was on the ground, his legs were tangled in a blanket he definitely didn’t remember being there when he fell asleep. Beside Hana, the apartment was quiet - no Tsukishima. Behind him, the door opened, he turned, eyes wide with panic. 

Tsukishima stared back at him, holding a bag in one hand, and a tray of coffee in the other, “I didn’t want to wake you,” he explained, pushing his slippers on his feet, “I got breakfast since you got it for me yesterday. I also put an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, and a change of clothes.” 

“You…” Kuroo became all too aware that his clothing sat crumpled around his form, his hair messy on top of his head, “I’m sorry!” He panicked, lunging forward toward Tsukishima, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here and inconvenience you.” Unnerved, Kuroo sort of just left in the middle of their conversation, disappearing into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth quickly, splashed some cold water in his face, and took a deep breath. 

He changed into Tsukishima’s clothes, the fabric a little bit snug around Kuroo’s larger frame, but far more comfortable than his clothing from the previous night. Before leaving the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror once more, desperately trying to tame his messy hair. 

“There’s no need to apologize,” Tsukishima handed Kuroo his coffee when he walked out, “and the only thing that’s inconveniencing me is the knot in my back from sleeping on the couch.” Tsukishima had removed the light jacket he wore on his coffee run, now standing in an old-worn t-shirt from his high school and a pair of green sweats. 

Kuroo took his coffee, staring down at the lid, “thank you.” 

“I texted Akaashi to get your order, so if it’s wrong, blame him.” Tsukishima dangled the bag before him, “I guessed on your pastry, though.” Kuroo took the bag and watched Tsukishima settle at the table, long legs stretching out. Kuroo admired him, the same way he had done the moment he saw Tsukishima. Never would this image of Tsukishima get old, though; hunched at his kitchen table, expression relaxed, “my breakfast is also in that bag, Kuroo.” He looked up at him, thin lips breaking into a teasing smirk. 

It had taken one week and six days for Kuroo to fall completely in love with Tsukishima Kei.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may seem like I don’t have a plan for this, but I promise I do. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos! 
> 
> Feel free to check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


	11. Countdown to Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes quickly. Kuroo has trouble finding his footing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter to date (I think), hope you guys enjoy!

The cool spring of April turned into the dense heat of June, and Tsukishima found himself in a comfortable routine with his new group of friends. They would get together when they could - sometimes weekly, sometimes every few weeks. He learned quickly that muting the groupchat would be best for his sanity, and felt less guilty once Akaashi said he did the same thing. Iwaizumi chimed in, saying Oikawa usually filled him in before he could even get around to reading it. He wasn’t quite sure how the other three didn’t run out of things to talk about, but then again, Bokuto used the group chat as his own personal google. 

Between his regular business and the weddings Oikawa kept happily bringing him, Tsukishima couldn’t handle everything on his own. He hired two highschool kids (Sato - a tall, fumbling boy with a loud personality and Nakamura - a quiet girl that knew a surprising amount about flowers) that worked part time during the day, allowing him to spend more time on intricate arrangements. 

He saw Oikawa most outside the group. The two of them, always at Tsukishima’s shop or apartment, poured over a pile of work. They bickered, constantly, but found balance within one another. Oikawa showed up unannounced one night, holding a bag of takeout. Tsukishima opened the door to the shop with a bundle of flowers in his hands, lips tucked neatly into a frown, “did we have plans that I forgot about?” He momentarily panicked, trying his best to imagine the calendar hanging by the register. 

“Relax, we didn’t. Just figured I’d come by.” Oikawa invited himself in, “whatcha working on?”

Tsukishima closed the door with his foot, “the flowers for the Tanaka wedding.”

“Oh,” Oikawa took his usual place behind the large counter. He moved flowers out of his way and dropped the bag of takeaway with a heavy sigh. 

Tsukishima wasn’t stupid, and Oikawa definitely wasn’t subtle, “can I ask what’s wrong?”

“I was beginning to think you’d never ask, Tsukki,” Oikawa laid himself out on top of the counter, pushing everything to the side. 

“I see that being upset hasn’t reduced how dramatic you are,” Tsukishima dodged the rose that had been thrown at his head, “there’s thorns!”

Oikawa snickered, resting his head on his hand, the top half of his body still bent over the counter, “I didn’t want to be home.” 

“Why?” Tsukishima questioned, reaching down to pick up the now bent flower Oikawa had thrown. A grumble from the body on the counter, “what was that?” 

“We got in a fight.” 

Tsukishima walked over to the counter, taking the time to gently lift the takeout from the paper bag, “do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Tsukishima nodded, “why don’t you tell me what you got us for dinner, then.” There was no use in forcing anything out of Oikawa, if he wanted to talk, he would. Oikawa let out a breath, as if Tsukishima was just asking way too much of him. He sat up, finally, and played with the corner of the plastic container. It broke in his hand and Tsukishima thought Oikawa was going to start crying; his brown eyes widened and wrinkles settled in his forehead when his eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Tsukishima was not good at damage control. He stared at his new friend, eyes wide, “why don’t we eat upstairs? It’s more comfortable than a counter littered with flower scraps.” 

Oikawa only nodded and Tsukishima brought him up to his apartment, apologizing for the mess. It was funny, Oikawa didn’t see a mess. He sat Oikawa on the couch, resting a blanket over his lap because it just seemed like Oikawa would find that comforting. Tsukishima sat beside him, their shoulders touching, “let’s watch something,” Oikawa suggested. 

Tsukishima let Oikawa pick what to watch while he busied himself with making their plates. Oikawa flipped through Netflix for a while, not being able to decide. He rambled his thoughts off outloud, and Tsukishima nodded along, responding around noodles when necessary. They fell into silence after a while, the laugh track on the drab comedy filling the room.

“I always push him; I know what pisses him off and I push and push and push. This time I think I pushed a little bit too far. He was past yelling and he just...left.” Oikawa took a deep breath, “why do I do this?” 

Tsukishima patted Oikawa on the knee, “don’t be so hard on yourself. We can all be shitty people,” he wasn’t the most gentle when it came to advice, “I think you should go home and wait for him, imagine how you’d feel coming home to a dark, empty apartment.” 

“But…” 

“And apologize. Pick up his favorite dessert on the way home and own up to it. No excuses.” 

Oikawa grumbled, “I feel like I’m being scolded.” 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “do you want me to make you a bouquet?” 

“Yes, please.” 

A few hours later, Tsukishima’s phone buzzed on his nightstand. He reached out from under the blankets and squinted at the screen, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He was met with a photo of Oikawa and Iwaizumi in bed - it appeared the grumpier of the two was asleep in the background, bare-ass. Oikawa was sitting beside him, shirtless, with a peace sign. Tsukishima’s lips curled into a smirk and sent Oikawa the emoji of a peace sign in return.

He didn’t expect Iwaizumi to invite him out for drinks a few weeks later. They met between their two apartments at a small, but trendy bar. They were awkward at first, neither being one to initiate conversation. Briefly, Tsukishima wondered why Iwaizumi invited them out - certainly they didn’t have much in common and were better friends in the group than one on one. He adjusted his glasses and looked at Iwaizumi across the table. 

What he wasn’t expecting to uncover was that Iwaizumi was actually sort of a nerd. Tsukishima snickered behind his beer, “you can’t possibly argue that there’s a better mythical being than the kraken. It’s literally a giant-er giant squid.” 

“Yea! That fucking only exists in water, Tsukishima. What could it possibly do to me on land?” Iwaizumi talked with his hands, motioning to drive his point home. He raised his glass at the passing waitress, “two more, please!” 

They debated for an embarrassing amount of time, neither willing to surrender. When the lights flipped on and off, signaling the last call, they decided to leave. Despite the darkness, the air was still heavy with humidity. Tsukishima bid Iwaizumi a goodbye, cheeks red from the alcohol. When he got home, he managed to send a slightly incoherent text, toeing off his sneakers. He made it to the couch and laid himself out, hiccuping as he pulled up his message thread with Kuroo.

**To: Kuroo**  
_Iwaizumi is a big, giant NERD!!!_

**From: Kuroo**  
_You must be drunk!  
You used exclamation points 🤔  
Did you have fun?_

**To: Kuroo**  
_It was enjoyable._

Tsukishima decided then it would be wise to send Kuroo a photo. He grabbed Hana, who was peacefully sleeping to the side, rolled onto his back and snapped a photo. He blinked at the screen and nodded, deciding it was good enough. Tsukishima fell asleep before Kuroo’s response came. 

On the other side of the city, Kuroo Tetsurou had been staring at his phone in the darkness of his bedroom for at least five minutes. The photo of Tsukishima took up the screen, the blonde hugging his cat to his chest, chin resting on top of Hana’s head. The cat looked annoyed, mouth open in what Kuroo guessed was a silent scream. Tsukishima on the other hand, looked to be having a great time with his flushed cheeks and upturned lips. Kuroo breathed out, placing his phone on his chest, trying to think of a response that was anything other than asking for his hand in marriage. 

**From: Kuroo**  
_wow_

The next day, when Tsukishima woke with a sore neck and pounding headache, he immediately regretted his confidence. He glared at Kuroo’s message in horror and hid his phone under the cushion of his couch for the rest of the day. 

The late weeks of June rolled into July, bringing dark clouds and heavy rains to the city of Tokyo. Tsukishima sat at his kitchen table, mug of coffee steaming in his hands. Despite the time of year, he had pulled a mustard colored cashmere sweater out of a stored bin. Rain thudded against the window, and Tsukishima watched as droplets raced down the glass. Rainy Sundays - his favorite. A chance for him to lounge and read and not feel bad about avoiding the sun. 

He looked down at his phone as it began ringing - Bokuto’s contact photo lit up the screen, beaming in a selfie he forced Tsukishima into. If anyone were to ask, Bokuto had set the contact photo - Tsukishima had definitely not set it. He let it ring a few times, debating whether or not to let Bokuto bring the sun into his rainy day. The nagging in his gut won over in the end, “hello, Bokuto.” 

“Hey.”

Tsukishima straightened, eyebrows instantly raising at the reply, “are you okay?”

Bokuto hummed, “kinda.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Bed.”

“Akaashi not home?”

“Store.”

Tsukishima had already started pulling on his rain jacket, “are you just having a bad day?” He held his phone between his shoulder and ear as he wrestled on his boots, struggling a bit. He grabbed his apartment keys, patted Hana on the head, and left with his umbrella in hand. 

“Sometimes I get sad - not as much as I used to. But every once and awhile I wake up and I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m not really sure if that makes sense…” Bokuto trailed off and Tsukishima heard the rustle of blankets as he shifted. 

“It does.” The umbrella didn’t do much to shield Tsukishima from the rain, the wind pushing it sideways. By the time he reached the subway, his pants were soaked through, cold fabric settling against his legs, “I get like that sometimes too.”

“Really?”

“More than I’d like,” he admitted. Bokuto always approached Tsukishima with such vulnerability, it was nearly impossible for the walls he had expertly crafted around himself not to come tumbling down. 

“What do you normally do to feel better?”

He spoke softly to Bokuto as the train rocked back and forth against the tracks, glancing up every so often to make sure he wasn't disturbing any of the other passengers. By the time he made it to the stop closest to Bokuto’s, the older of the two had taken over the conversation, trying to make sense of his feelings. Tsukishima listened carefully, avoiding the large puddles that pooled in the dips of concrete. His heart sat heavy in his chest under the weight of Bokuto’s sadness. Naive of Tsukishima to think someone like Bokuto couldn’t feel the crushing weight of depression. He supposed, though, even the sun needed to take days off. 

Tsukishima glanced at the darkening sky in the distance and sighed softly, “Bokuto, do you think you could get up to unlock your door?” He ducked into the apartment building, closing his umbrella and heading to the stairwell. 

The rustling of sheets over the speaker of the phone was all the answer Tsukishima needed. He pocketed his phone and reached Bokuto’s door just as the older man was pulling it open - shirtless, pink pajama pants low on his hips. He faltered, staring at the blonde for a moment, “you’re here.” 

“You’re sad.” 

Bokuto hugged him, strong arms holding Tsukishima in place, “you didn’t have to.” 

Tsukishima took a deep breath, “you would’ve done the same for me. And it’s easier to be sad with someone else.” 

The two settled where Bokuto was most comfortable, and Tsukishima allowed him to be as clingy as he wanted to. As Bokuto laid on the couch, his head resting in Tsukishima’s lap, Tsukishima noticed stubborn tangles in grey hair. Thinking about it, Tsukishima had never seen Bokuto’s hair anyway other than a low bun - always neat and perfect, “Bokuto, where’s your hair brush?” 

Tsukishima brushed through the strands while sitting on the back of the couch, Bokuto nestled comfortably between Tsukishima’s spread legs, “when I get like this I can’t be bothered to take care of it.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” Tsukishima twisted Bokuto’s hair into a clip, smoothing it over his scalp, “no shame in needing a little bit of help.” 

By the time Tsukishima headed back home, his umbrella hung off his wrist. The sun hadn’t quite managed to break through the grey expanse of clouds, but the rain had stopped. The city fell into that odd after-rain silence where it was just starting to come back to life. Tsukishima was hopeful that tomorrow the sun would return. 

That night, when Bokuto was curled up into his side asleep, Akaashi texted Kuroo. 

**To: Kuroo**  
_ask  
him  
out_

**From: Kuroo**  
_YOU TOO?!_

August brought heavy summer days, and Tsukishima passed his free time standing in front of the shop coolers with the door open. Yamaguchi had caught him one night, hunched over, staring at the tiger lily’s. When his friend cleared his throat, Tsukishima jumped, slamming the door. 

“You’re annoying.” Tsukishima deadpanned at the snickering Yamaguchi. 

“Hitoka’s on her way with dinner. What’re we doing?” 

Tsukishima had been so busy at the shop he had begged Yamaguchi and Yachi for some extra help, promising to pay them with dinner and whatever booze they wanted from his fridge. That, and he would willingly answer the questions he’d been avoiding for the past few months. 

As they twisted small stems of flowers together, creating elaborate centerpieces, Yachi brought it up, “so...coffee man,” she raised her eyebrows, staring at Tsukishima with a steady, careful gaze. 

“Kuroo,” Tsukishima cleared his throat, “what about him?” 

“What exactly is he?”

“Just a friend…” Tsukishima didn’t look at her, choosing to study the flowers in front of him. He glanced up to two sets of eyes narrowed at him, “a friend that I enjoy being around, and that I think is...attractive.” 

“...a friend that maybe you have feelings for?” Yachi hummed.

Eventually Tsukishima admitted to them that yes, he did have feelings for Kuroo. 

As much as his oldest friends encouraged him, he was unable to tell Kuroo. Instead the two danced around one another like they always did - catching glances and stealing touches. Tsukishima wanted to tell him, but the more time they spent around one another, the more the blooms in his chest spread, pushing against his ribcage, aching to get out. He didn’t want to take the chance of the blooms withering. 

The leaves started changing at the end of September, and Tsukishuima kept himself busy after the shop closed by dragging out plastic tubs of warmer clothes. As he packed the summer clothes away, he received a text from Akaashi. 

**From: Akaashi**  
_You home?_

**To: Akaashi**  
_Yes._

**From: Akaashi**  
_Great. I’m coming over._

It didn’t take Akaashi long to reach his apartment, a pile of small books under his arms, “Kuroo is over and I have a deadline to meet.” He set himself up at Tsukishima’s kitchen table, back hunched over the manuscript in front of him. Tsukishima didn’t speak to him, simply letting him work. Akaashi shut the book with a thud and sighed, pulling his glasses from his face, “done. Finally.” 

Tsukishima glanced up from the book he was reading, the sweaters had long been put away, stacked in the tallest part of Tsukishima’s closet. He unfolded himself from the couch and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of sake and two small glasses, “you met your deadline, right?”

“By an hour,” Akaashi watched Tsukishima pour the warm liquid into his cup and nodded in thanks. 

“To quiet spaces and beating deadlines,” Tsukishima raised his glass, smirking a bit at his friend. He scrunched his nose at the taste and sat opposite Akaashi, legs stretching out under the table.

“Thank you for letting me escape somewhere quiet.” 

“Anytime, Akaashi.” 

He always spent quiet moments late at night with Kuroo. Sometimes they were warm with alcohol - their careful and calculating avoidance of one another because clumsy where Kuroo would catch his hand wrapped tightly around Tsukishima’s as they walked home, or Tsukishima spent a bit too much time watching Kuroo simply exist. Sometimes they were tired - both too stubborn to let the night end, they would push themselves to stay up until one of them (usually Kuroo) fell asleep. 

“Hey, Tsukishima,” Kuroo said one night as they walked back to his apartment, pinky fingers intertwined, “I’m glad I know you.” 

Tsukishima’s breath caught in his throat. He stopped walking, grabbing Kuroo around the wrist to catch him. “How do you just say things like that so casually? Don’t you know it’s embarrassing?” 

Kuroo stood before him, watching as Tsukishima pushed his face into the green scarf tucked neatly into the top of his jacket. Halloween was quickly approaching, and with it came the chill of early winter, “maybe I just like seeing you blush.” 

“Shameless,” Tsukishima retorted. He released Kuroo’s wrist only to wrap his long fingers with Kuroo’s. Kuroo’s eyes widened, his cheeks turning the same shade of pink as Tsukishima’s. 

“W...what’re you doing?” 

Tsukishima tilted his head to the side, looking down at the nervous Kuroo, “it’s only fair, don’t you think? If I make you blush?” 

They stood underneath a flicking streetlamp, palms pressed together. The world crumbled beneath Kuroo’s feet, and he took a deep breath in to prepare himself for the free fall, “how’re you going to do that?” Kuroo challenged, as if Tsukishima hadn’t already turned him into a putty. 

Tsukishima blinked at Kuroo before laughter bubbled up in his chest. He folded over himself, his hand that wasn’t wrapped in Kuroo’s holding his waist, “are you kidding, you sho-” 

Kuroo kissed him. His free hand found Tsukishima’s neck, pulling him in deeper. The freefall stopped. For the first time since meeting the blonde, he felt grounded. Tsukishima’s lips were warm against Kuroo’s, eager to return the kiss. Flowers burst through Tsukishima’s rib cage, their red petals opening to accept the light Kuroo radiated. Kuroo pulled him in further, his hands on either side of Tsukishima’s face, pads of his fingers pressed into pale skin hot with embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to every single person who has subscribed, left kudos, commented, bookmarked, even just read part of it. Thank you to Steph who is a constant source of inspiration, for always supporting me, and for being an all-around good person. Please check out her adorable [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25660999/chapters/62297290%E2%80%9D%20rel=) with Akaashi and Kuroo! It turns me into a puddle every single time she updates. 
> 
> If you want, check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


	12. Precious Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love had never come easy to Tsukishima; the emotion was too intense - too overwhelming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depression has been difficult so enjoy this short chapter that just makes me :)

The world stopped spinning on its axis, and everything disappeared around Tsukishima except for Kuroo. Blooms burst through his chest, their vines wrapping around Kuroo, implanting themselves in Kuroo’s beating heart. Tsukishima’s hands came to his shoulders, long fingers gripping desperately as if Kuroo were about to slip away. Time blurred. They made it back to Tsukishima’s, tumbling through the door frame. 

Tsukishima’s favorite time spent in his shop was long after the sun had set. The yellow glow of flickering fairy lights bounced across the open space. Air, thick with humidity, caused the windows to fog with condensation; the chill from early October didn’t reach inside, and Tsukishima rid Kuroo of his jacket after shrugging his own off. In his eagerness to reach the stairs, Kuroo tripped over a vase full of yellow roses. They fell, crashing into the tiled floor, water spilling. 

When Kuroo pulled back, Tsukishima caught him, long fingers tangled in Kuroo’s dark hair, “leave it.”

“Not like you to leave a mess, Tsukishima,” Kuroo teased, eye half-lidded in lust. 

A smirk settled on Tsukishima’s kiss-swollen lips, looking down the bridge of his nose at Kuroo, “do you think now is really the time to worry about some spilled water?”

Kuroo hummed, leaning forward to place his hands on the counter behind Tsukishima, arms on either side of his waist, “I suppose you’re right.”

Tsukishima had ignored the blooms in his chest successfully for the past six months. But right now, when Kuroo stared at him, hazel eyes blossoming with wildflowers, the weight of what Kuroo was settled into Tsukishima’s chest. Love had never come easy to Tsukishima; the emotion was too intense - too overwhelming. Running from this passed through his mind, but the blooms already started to wither at the thought of Kuroo’s warmth not reaching them. Ache radiated through Tsukishima’s chest so he leaned into Kuroo once more, kissing him desperately. 

They ended up naked and tangled in Tsukishima’s green sheets, Kuroo’s face buried into blonde hair, eyes heavy with sleep. He inhaled the scent of strawberries, pressing his chest into Tsukishima’s back, “Tsukki?” 

Tsukishima shifted, moving to lay on his stomach, his head now turned toward Kuroo, “that’s a serious tone,” he squinted through the blurred edges of Kuroo’s expression, unable to read it. 

Kuroo caught Tsukishima’s hand, pressing his lips to long fingers, “I have a serious question.”

“M’kay,” Tsukishima answered, resting his cheek against his arm, “what is it then?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Tsukishima pushed a pillow into Kuroo’s face and turned back around with a huff, cheeks a pretty color of red, “fine.”

Kuroo laughed, grabbing Tsukishima around the waist, dragging him back into his chest. He fit his body around Tsukishima’s, finding comfort in the warmth, “I was worried you’d say no.”

Tsukishima scoffed, “impossible.” 

The fan ruffled Kuroo’s hair as it spun above them in slow, lazy circles. The warmth of Kuroo lulled Tsukishima to sleep, grip tight on Kuroo’s arm that wrapped around his waist. Kuroo stayed up long past Tsukishima, his heart busy doing flips in his chest. A date. With Tsukishima. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and tried to relax, listening to Tsukishima’s heavy breathing. 

Kuroo woke without the warmth of Tsukishima in his arms, just as the sun filtered through the slotted blinds, casting shadows across the room. He sat up, pushing a hand through his messy hair, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Tsukishima’s room was exactly as Kuroo imagined - the wooden bedframe pushed into the corner by the window, small succulents scattered along the windowsill reaching out toward the sun. A fountain bubbled in the corner for Hana; the cat lounged beside it, his large paw slapping at the water. Shelves were suspended on the wall above the bed, holding books and a pot of ivy, it’s leaves tangling in anything it could latch onto. 

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, toes resting comfortably in a plush rug patterned with large, sketchy outlines of flowers. Kuroo reached for his boxer briefs, tugging them up over his large thighs, the waistband resting low on tanned hips. He found Tsukishima at the kitchen table, holding a mug of steaming coffee. The pot sat on the counter, the warmer on, and a mug beside it. Kuroo stood in the door frame for a moment, not wanting to ruin the silence of early morning in the apartment. The floor creaked when Kuroo shifted his weight, and Tsukishima caught his eye. 

“Did I wake you?” Tsukishima asked, eyebrows raising in question, “I’ve never been one that’s been able to sleep in…” He looked back down at his coffee, fingers twisting nervously around the handle on his mug. 

Kuroo shook his head, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “No,” he walked over to the coffee and dumped it from the pot into the mug, “I can’t sleep in either. Sometimes on Sunday, but my body’s used to waking up early for work.” 

Tsukishima watched Kuroo, enjoying the fact that he just made himself at home so easily. He wrapped his sweater around his hand and rested his chin against his fist, his expression softening as he watched Kuroo pad around the kitchen, opening cabinets to look for sugar. Seemed he was too engrossed in whatever he was talking about to ask Tsukishima where it was, “corner cabinet, third shelf up.” He finally spoke up. 

“Ah, finally got tired of watching me struggle?” Kuroo glanced at Tsukishima, dumping a small bit of sugar in the bitter liquid.

“Something like that,” Tsukishima sighed into his mug. 

Kuroo only laughed, walking over to sit beside Tsukishima at the table. As he lowered into the chair, he pressed a kiss gently to Tsukishima’s lips, a hand cradling the back of his head. Tsukishima stared at Kuroo, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, “was that okay?” He blurted out, suddenly insecure. 

Tsukishima smirked, cheeks still red, “of course, just…” he trailed off, as if searching for the right words, “not used to it yet.” Kuroo grinned, and the blooms in Tsukishima’s chest opened at the warmth, “so, where are we going for our first date?” 

They spent the early hours of the morning together, legs intertwined underneath the small table. The two stayed at the table long after their coffee was finished, the small bit of liquid pooled at the bottom of their mugs cold with time. Tsukishima sat there with Kuroo longer than he should have, the time moving faster than he wanted it to. When he quietly mentioned it was almost time for the shop to open, Kuroo visibly deflated.

Tsukishima wrapped his hand around Kuroo’s chin, kissing him again, “come back later.”

Kuroo didn’t have to think twice, simply nodded and returned Tsukishima’s kiss, “we can have our date?”

“Anything you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my short little random chapter to get me back into the groove - promise I’ll try and update faster :) 
> 
> Feel free to check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to check out my [carrd](https://ke9.carrd.co)!


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